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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


UWABY  OF  ARCHITECTURE 
AND  ALLIED  ARTS 


CHURCH     BUILDING 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/churchbuildingstOOcramiala 


THE   REREDOS  — WINCHESTER  CATHEDRAL. 


CHURCH   BUILDING 

A  STUDY  OF   THE 

PRINCIPLES   OF  ARCHITECTURE 

IN   THEIR  RELATION   TO 

THE   CHURCH 

By 
RALPH    ADAMS    CRAM 


BOSTON 

SMALL,   MAYNARD   &   COMPANY 

MCMVI 


LIBiARY  OF  ARCHIlECTURt 
AND  ALLIED  ARTS 


Copyright  i8gg,  igoo^  by 
Ralph  Adams  Cram 


Copyright  I  go  I  by 
Small^  Maynard  &  Company 

( Incorporated ) 


Entered  at  Stationers^  Hall 


Press  of 
George  H.  Ellis,   Boston,   U.S.J. 


Architecture  % 
Urban  Planning 
Library     ^^ 

Co  the  IMemory  of 

CHARLES    FRANCIS   WENTWORTH 


PREFACE 


The  greater  portion  of  the  contents  of  this  book  appeared 
originally  in  serial  form  in  the  columns  of  The  Churchman. 
The  interest  in  the  work  manifested  by  the  public,  at  and 
since  the  time  of  its  original  publication,  has  seemed  to  the 
author  a  justification  for  its  appearance  in  more  permanent 
form.  As  here  printed,  the  chapters  have  been  carefully 
revised  and  somewhat  enlarged,  and  a  number  of  new  illus- 
trations have  been  included. 

The  thanks  of  the  author  are  due  to  The  Churchman  for 
courtesies  and  to  the  Bates  and  Guild  Company  for  the  use 
of  many  valuable  illustrations  not  otherwise  accessible. 

R.  A.  C. 


iz 


CONTENTS 


I.  Introduction i 

II.  The  Country  Chapel 13 

III.  The  Village  Church 33 

IV,  The  City  Church 69 

V.  The  Chancel  and  its  Fittings 89 

VI.  Chapels,  Baptisteries,  and  Sacristies iii 

VII.  Decoration  and  Stained  Glass 127 

VIII.  The  Altar 151 

IX.  The  Cathedral 171 

X.  Conclusion 217 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PACK 

Frontispiece.  The  Reredos,  Winchester  Cathedral    .      facing  title-page 

ViGNErTE.  Design  for  Processional  Cross 12 

I.  The  False  Picturesque 15 

II.  The  Affectedly  Picturesque 15 

III.  A  Country  Chapel.     (Plan) 18 

IV,  A  Country  Chapel 18 

V.  A  Little  Church.     (Plan) 21 

VI.  A  Little  Church 21 

VII.  A  Country  Church.     (Plan) 23 

VIII.  A  Country  Church 23 

IX.  Another  Country  Church.     (Plan) 24 

X.  Another  Country  Church 24 

XI.  An  Example  of  Vicious  Design 26 

XII.  A  Piece  of  Bad  Stone  Work 26 

XIII.  A  Good  English  Design 28 

XIV.  An  English  Country  Church 29 

XV.  An  Example  of  Good  English  Work 30 

XVI.  The  Perfect  Type .• 31 

XVII.  St.  Cuthbert's,  Wells 34 

XVIII.  Harberton  Church 35 

XIX.  St.  George's,  Stockport 36 

XX.  Interior  of  St.  John's,  Coventry 38 

XXI.  Interior  of  Church  at  Middleborough,  Massachusetts       .  39 

XXII.  Plan  of  Middleborough  Church 40 

XXIII.  Exterior  of  Middleborough  Church 40 

XXIV.  Plan  of  All  Saints',  Dorchester,  Massachusetts       ...  42 
XXV.  Exterior  of  All  Saints'        42 

XXVI.  St.  Andrew's,  Detroit,  Michigan 44 

XXVII.  St.  Mary's,  Herts 44 

XXVIII.  Hoarcross  Church 46 

XXIX.  St.  Stephen's,  Cohasset,  Massachusetts 47 

XXX.  St.  Peter's,  Morristown,  New  Jersey 47 

XXXI.  A  Piece  of  Unintelligent  Design 48 

xiii 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


XXXII.  St.  Helen's,  Lancashire 50 

XXXIII.  Stratford  Church 52 

XXXIV.  Sonning  Church 54 

XXXV.  Chilham  Church 54 

XXXVI.  Church  at  Waterloo 56 

XXXVII.  St.  Mary's,  Stretton-cum-Wetmore.     (Plan) 58 

XXXVIII.  St.  Mary's.     (Exterior) 58 

XXXIX.  St.  Mary's,  Dalton-in-Furness 60 

XL.  The  Typical  Plan  for  a  Village  Church 63 

Vignette.  In    the    Cloister   Close,  All    Saints',  B-ookline,  Massa- 
chusetts      68 

XLI.  All  Saints',  Brookline.    (Exterior) 69 

XLII.  All  Saints',  Brookline.     (Plan) 70 

XLIII.  All  Saints',  Brookline  :  In  the  Cloister 72 

XLIV.  An  Example  of  Misplaced  Design 74 

XLV.  A  Church  Dwarfed  by  its  Surroundings 75 

XLVI.  Christ  Church,  New  Haven,  Connecticut 76 

XLVII.  A  New  Church  in  Manchester,  England 78 

XLVITI.  Interior  of  Manchester  Church 79 

XLIX.  S^.  Stephen's,  Fall  River,  Massachusetts 80 

L.  Church  of  the  Ascension,  New  York 81 

LI.  Church  of  St.  Mary  the  Virgin,  New  York 82 

LII.  A  Mission  Church 84 

LIII.  Trinity  Church,  New  York 86 

Vignette.  Ancient  Gold  Chalice 88 

LIV.  Choir  Screen,  St.  Luke's,  Germantown,  Pennsylvania      .  91 

LV.  Chancel  of  All  Saints',  Dorchester,  Massachusetts     .     .  90 

LVI.  St.  Agnes's,  Kennington,  London.     (Interior)  ....  94 

LVII.  Choir  Screen,  Newcastle  Cathedral 96 

LVIII.  Choir  Screen,  Brodninch,  Devon 98 

LIX.  A  Modern  English  Lectern 100 

LX.  Lectern  in  All  Saints',  Dorchester,  Massachusetts        .     .  10 1 

LXI.  Sanctuary,  Holy  Trinity,  London 102 

LXII.  Choir  Stalls,  Middleborough,  Massachusetts       ....  103 

LXIII.  Bishop's  Sedilia,  All  Saints',  Dorchester,  Massachusetts  105 

LXIV.  Priests'  Sedilia,  All  Saints',  Dorchester 106 

LXV.  Credence,  All  Saints',  Dorchester 107 

xiv 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


LXVI.  Chancel,  All  Saints',  Dorchester,  Massachusetts.     (Plan) 

LXVII.     Typical  Chancel  Plan 

Vignette.     Ancient  Gold  Ciborium 

LXVI  1 1.     Font,  Cockington  Church,  Devon 

LXIX.     Font,  Bentham  Church,  Yorkshire 

LXX.  Arrangement  of  Baptistery  and  Sacristies.     (Plan)      .     . 

LXXI.  Font,  Middleborough  Church,  Massachusetts     .... 

LXX II.  Church  of  the  Holy  Rood,  Watford.     (Plan)      .... 

LXX  II  I.     Lady  Chapel,  St.  Martin's,  Mar  pie 

LXXIV.     Chapel  St.  Mary's,  Chaddesden,  Derry 

LXXV.     Greenaway's  Chapel,  Tiverton  Church 

LXXVI.     Arrangement  of  Chapel  and  Baptistery 

Vignette.     Ancient  Embroidered  Cope 

LXXVI  I.     The  Adoration  of  the  Magi.     (Tapestry) 

LXXVI II.     The  Upper  Church  at  Assisi 

LXXIX.     Capella  Palatina,  Palermo 

LXXX.     The  Arcade  of  Monreale 

LXXXI.     Example  of  Misplaced  Decoration 

LXXXII.     Santa  Maria  dei  Miracoli,  Venice 

LXXXIII.     Modern  English  Decoration 

LXXXIV.     An  English  Fifteenth  Century  Window 

LXXXV.     Decoration  of  Church  Roof 

LXXXVI.     Example  of  Good  Leaded  Glass 

LXXXVII.     The  Choir  of  Newcastle  Cathedral 

LXXXVIII.  Reredos,  All  Saints',  Dorchester,  Massachusetts     .     .     . 

LXXXIX.  Chancel  of  Trinity  Church,  Boston,  Massachusetts      .     . 

XC.     Chancel  of  Trinity  Church,  New  York 

XCI.     Reredos,  Merton  Chapel,  Oxford 

XCII.     Triptych,  Church  at  Pendlebury 

XCIII.     Triptych,  Douglass  Castle 

XCIV.     Reredos,  Glasgow  Cathedral 

XCV.  High  Altar,  St.  Patrick's  Cathedral,  New  York       .     .     . 

XCVI.  Reredos,  St.  Paul's  School,  Concord,  New  Hampshire    . 

XCVII.  Altar  Brasses,  All  Saints',  Dorchester,  Massachusetts 

XCVIII.     Triptych  in  Painted  Plaster 

XCIX.     Durham  Cathedral 

C.     Lincoln  Cathedral 

XV 


PAGE 

[o8 
[o8 

lO 
12 

13 
14 
15 
17 
19 

:  21 

[26 
29 

^33 
'34 
137 
'38 
[41 
[42 

'45 
'47 
[48 
149 

'53 
'54 
'55 
'57 
'59 
[61 
[62 

'65 
[66 

.67 
[70 

'73 
75 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

^  PAGE 

Gloucester  Cathedral 175 

York  Cathedral 177 

Interior  of  Amiens  Cathedral 180 

Exeter  Cathedral .  182 

Winchester  Cathedral 183 

Beauvais  Cathedral,     (Choir) 184 

SaUsbury  Cathedral.     (Plan) 186 

Salisbury  Cathedral 187 

Cologne  Cathedral.     (Plan)    ....  188 

Notre  Dame,  Paris i8g 

Lincoln  Cathedral.     (Plan) 190 

Canterbury  Cathedral 191 

Albany  (New  York)  Cathedral 193 

Competitive  Design,  New  York  Cathedral 194 

Competitive  Design,  New  York  Cathedral 196 

Competitive  Design,  New  York  Cathedral 197 

Truro  Cathedral 198 

Belfast  Cathedral 199 

Garden  City  (Long  Island)  Cathedral        200 

Cleveland  (Ohio)  Cathedral 202 

Competitive  Design,  Victoria  Cathedral 204 

Example  of  Bad  Planning 206 

Typical  Cathedral  Plan 209 

Competitive  Design,  Victoria  Cathedral 211 

Accepted  Design,  New  York  Cathedral 214 

Ancient  Processional  Cross 216 


CI. 
CIL 

cm. 

CIV. 

cv. 
cvi. 

CVII. 

CVIII. 

CIX. 

ex. 

CXI. 

CXII. 

CXIII. 

CXIV. 

CXV. 

CXVI. 

CXVII. 

CXVIII. 

CXIX. 

cxx. 

CXXI. 

CXXII. 

CXXIII. 

CXXIV. 

cxxv. 

Vignette. 


xvi 


CHURCH     BUILDING 


INTRODUCTION 


Art  is  the  measure  of  civilization.  We  may  assert  such 
claims  as  we  choose,  if  we  have  not  an  art  that  is  instinctive, 
the  natural  expression  of  a  healthy  people,  then  we  protest  in 
vain.     We  do  not  possess  a  genuine,  vital  civilization. 

Not  that  we  must  be  able  to  boast  of  men  so  great  in  the 
various  fields  of  art  that  they  have  won  for  their  names  an 
earthly  immortality.  Such  are  rather  a  sign  of  a  time  without 
art  than  of  one  wherein  art  is  universal.  The  great  painters  of 
Venice  came  just  as  that  brilliant  epoch  of  civilization  was 
swerving  toward  its  fall.  Turner  was  born  in  the  dark  ages  of 
modern  England.  Wagner  and  Brahms  were  as  voices  crying 
in  the  wilderness.  There  have  always  been  dazzling  personali- 
ties that  flashed  out  of  the  surrounding  gloom  like  the  writing 
on  the  wall  at  the  great  king's  feast;  but  they  are  not  manifes- 
tations of  healthy  art.  They  are  phenomena.  The  sanest, 
most  wholesome  art  is  that  which  is  the  heritage  of  all  the 
people,  the  natural  language  through  which  they  express  their 
joy  of  life,  their  achievement  of  just  living;  and  this  is  civiliza- 
tion,—  not  commercial  enterprise,  not  industrial  activity,  not  the 
amassing  of  fabulous  wealth,  not  increase  of  population  or  of 
empire.  These  may  accompany  civilization,  but  they  do  not 
prove  it. 

Since  the  beginnings  of  recorded  history,  art  has  existed  in 
varying  degrees  of  nobility,  but  no  period  has  ever  come  dur- 
ing which  it  has  been  essentially  wrong,  not  even  the  last  years 
of  the  Roman  Empire  or  the  Dark  Ages  of  Europe, —  no 
period  until  our  own ;  and,  whatever  it  may  signify,  we  are  com- 
pelled to  confess  that,  when  instinctive  art  had  dribbled  away 
in  the  futilities  of  Georgian  and  our  own  Colonial  work,  a  time 


CHURCH       BUILDING 

came  when,  so  far  as  art  was  concerned,  we  stood  below  the 
Navajo  Indians  and  the  Maories  of  New  Zealand. 

Europe  was  not  much  better  off,  but  there  was  a  sufficient 
difference  for  the  Centennial  to  give  us  a  vigorous  shock ;  and 
at  once  we  here  in  America  set  ourselves  to  the  task  of  creating 
the  art  that  was  then  considered  only  one  of  the  amenities  of 
civilization.  We  did  not  succeed  in  making  it  instinctive ;  but 
we  learned  much,  and  began  a  course  of  imitation  that  was 
often  most  intelligent,  while  trained  specialists  succeeded  with 
infinite  labor  in  giving  us  what,  three  centuries  ago,  a  common 
workman  would  have  done  without  thought  and  without  pains. 

We  have  not  realized  as  yet  that  art  is  a  result,  not  a  prod- 
uct, and  that  the  conditions  we  now  offer  are  not  such  as  make 
it  inevitable.  When  we  change  the  conditions,  the  art  will 
follow, —  not  until  then. 

Art  is  the  result  of  beautiful  ideas,  of  beautiful  modes  of 
life,  of  beautiful  environment.  He  would  be  a  courageous 
optimist  who  would  say  these  existed  now  in  secular  life ;  but 
it  is  just  because  they  do  exist  in  one  place,  or  can,  if  we  will, 
that  these  papers  are  written. 

For  our  true  industrial  art,  our  noble  civil  architecture,  our 
beautiful  dwellings,  our  great  secular  pictures, —  except  for  the 
sporadic  cases  that  owe  their  existence  to  isolated  genius, —  we 
must  wait  for  different  times  ;  but  what  of  the  Church  ?  Here 
is  a  society  within  a  society,  a  life  that  in  theory  has  preserved 
or  reasserted  the  beautiful  ideas  and  environment  that  once 
characterized  all  phases  of  life.  Surely,  if  there  is  any  power 
in  the  world  to-day  capable  of  evoking  a  vital  art,  demanding 
art  as  her  true  means  of  outward  expression,  it  is  the  Church. 

But  this  is  not  the  case,  if  we  are  to  judge  from  results;  for 
the  Church  here  in  America  does  not  stand  a  degree  higher 
than  secular  powers  in   her  artistic  expressions.    In  fact,  she 


INTRODUCTION 


seems  even  to  fall  behind.  She  has  created  no  religious  painter, 
no  music,  no  school  of  art  work,  and,  above  all,  no  logical 
architecture.  In  worldly  affairs  it  has  become  the  fashion  to 
affect  the  splendors  of  elaborate  architectural  form,  and  the 
results  are  as  chaotic  as  one  could  ask.  Style  follows  style,  as 
fashion  changes,  until  at  last  we  are  confronted  by  an  absolutely 
futile  confusion.  Has  the  Church  stood  aloof  from  this  Babel 
of  tongues  ?  Has  she  pursued  her  way  uninfluenced  by  the  fads 
around  her.?  By  no  manner  of  means :  every  newly  discovered 
style  has  found  favor  in  her  eyes ;  and  she  has  become,  archi- 
tecturally, but  the  echo  of  the  artificiality  of  secular  life. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  this  should  be  so.  Had  the  life  of 
the  Church  been  unbroken  by  conflict,  had  she  remained 
united,  she  would  have  maintained  her  position  as  the  leader, 
the  creator  of  art ;  and,  under  her  inspiration  and  control,  paint- 
ing and  sculpture  and  architecture  might  easily  have  con- 
tinued their  development,  handing  on  to  secular  life  the  styles 
and  modes  they  had  developed  under  the  spiritual.  This  was 
always  the  case  in  the  past,  since  Christianity  first  became 
dominant.  Art  in  all  its  forms  owed  its  inspiration  to  the 
Church,  and  without  her  could  not  have  existed.  There  is  no 
reason  to  suppose  that  there  would  have  been  any  change,  had 
the  Reformation  never  taken  place,  or  had  it  been  a  movement 
that  contented  itself  with  internal  reforms,  not  one  that  insisted 
upon  revolution  and  disruption. 

Under  the  circumstances,  art  as  a  universal  mode  of  ex- 
pression, as  a  common  heritage  of  all  men,  received  its  death- 
blow in  the  sixteenth  century,  when  the  Church  was  shattered 
and  her  power  destroyed.  From  that  moment  the  decadence 
began ;  and  the  fall  was  swift,  indeed,  not  only  in  England,  but 
throughout  Europe,  and  chaos  took  the  place  of  order,  uncer- 
tainty and  affectation  that  of  the  clearly  defined  motives  that 
until  then  had  been  followed  consistently. 


CHURCH       BUILDING 


Architecture,  together  with  all  art,  is  the  exact  expression 
of  the  mental,  social,  and  spiritual  temper  of  the  times  that 
produce  it.  That  modern  secular  architecture  should  be  what 
it  is  is  eminently  fitting,  but  that  the  same  qualities  of  trivial 
fashion  and  triumphant  individualism  should  obtain  in  a 
portion  of  that  Church  which  we  hold  to  be  changeless  and 
stable,  resting  serene  above  the  vacillations  and  vicissitudes  of 
human  society,  is  certainly  a  most  unfortunate  condition  of 
things. 

The  results  of  recent  church  building  in  America  are  such 
that  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  deny  that  the  principles  upon 
which  we  work  are  radically  wrong.  They  may  voice  the  chaos 
of  contemporary  social  and  economic  conditions,  but  they 
slander  the  nature  of  the  immutable  Church. 

That  this  should  be  so  is  by  no  means  surprising.  The 
Anglican  Church  was  established  in  America  at  precisely  the 
worst  time  in  the  history  of  this  branch  of  the  Catholic  Church, 
and  therefore  the  time  when  its  architecture  was  at  the  lowest 
ebb.  Severed  almost  entirely  from  the  parent  stem,  it  was  cut 
off  from  all  the  growing  influences  that  were  to  re-create  some- 
thing of  early  vigor  and  glory  in  the  mother  Church,  and  was 
left  defenceless  in  the  midst  of  the  rushing  social  events  and 
political  conditions  that  were  to  show  their  general  effect 
through  the  collapse  of  all  local  and  national  art. 

During  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries  the  neo- 
pagan  style,  which  had  gradually  lost  what  shreds  of  Christian 
tradition  it  retained  under  Wren,  served  fairly  well  for  the 
Puritan  meeting-houses  and  for  the  very  few  new  structures 
demanded  by  the  prostrate  Church ;  but  when  the  Catholic 
revival  of  the  first  half  of  the  present  century  began  to  lead  men 
to  desire  something  more  in  harmony  with  church  history  and 
tradition  than  the  Georgian  pseudo-temples  with  a  steeple  on 


INTRODUCTION 


one  end  and  a  little,  screened  chancel  on  the  other,  the  resulting 
attempts  in  this  country  at  a  Gothic  restoration,  in  echo  of  the 
similar  successful  restoration  in  England,  were  not  crowned 
with  striking  success.  Study  of  mediaeval  models  rarely  went 
further  than  the  contours  of  mouldings  and  the  outlines  of 
arches.  The  old  meeting-house  principle  remained;  and  flimsy 
columns  of  iron,  glaring  light,  awkward  galleries,  and  box  pews 
made  Gothic  details  of  no  avail.  Men  bowed  before  the  rocky 
masses  of  Durham  and  in  the  mysterious  caverns  of  Cologne, 
but  the  traditions  of  the  meeting-house  and  the  commands  of 
the  wardens  and  vestry  were  heavy  upon  the  builders;  and 
though  they  put  jig-sawed  tracery  in  their  pointed  windows 
and  filled  them  with  ground  glass  in  diamond  panes, 
though  they  designed  wonderful  buildings  with  aisles  and 
transepts,  arcades  of  plaster  arches  on  iron  columns,  and  with 
beautiful  Early  English  mouldings  on  their  black  walnut  pews 
and  galvanized  iron  crockets  on  their  wooden  spires,  all  was  of 
no  effect;  and  the  shocking  building  remained  a  meeting-house 
still,  only  less  honorable,  less  respectable  than  the  Georgian 
structures  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

The  idea  of  the  architectural  restoration  in  England  had 
taken  root,  but  the  growth  was  wilful  and  lifeless.  Forms  were 
copied  after  a  fashion,  but  principles  were  ignored.  Therefore, 
the  alleged  "  Gothic "  was  an  affectation  without  reality  or 
truth.  The  false  and  deadly  principles  that  obtained  in  church 
building  during  the  bald  eighteenth  century  persisted  obsti- 
nately ;  and,  so  long  as  they  endured,  just  so  long  was  good  art 
out  of  the  question.  ' 

In  England  the  Catholic  and  Gothic  restorations  have  suc- 
ceeded at  last  in  getting  back  to  basic  principles;  and,  as  a  result, 
the  only  vital,  modern,  consistent  church  building  to-day  is  that 
of  England.     It  is  based  on  a  clear  conception  of  the  nature  of 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

a  church,  and  we  must  accept  this  in  America  if  we  are  to  see 
our  own  church  architecture  take  its  place  with  that  of  Eng- 
land. 

What,  then,  are  the  qualities  of  a  church,  and  their  order  of 
precedence  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  they  are  four,  and  that  they 
stand  in  the  following  order  of  importance :  — 

First  of  all,  a  church  is  a  house  of  God,  a  place  of  His 
earthly  habitation,  wrought  in  the  fashion  of  heavenly  things,  a 
visible  type  of  heaven  itself.  From  the  day  when  God  gave  to 
Solomon  the  plan  and  the  fashion  of  the  temple  down  to  those 
wherein  our  own  forefathers  lavished  their  scanty  wealth  and 
toiled  with  devout  hands  to  raise  the  awful  fabrics  of  the  medi- 
aeval cathedrals  and  abbeys,  this  thought  has  lain  as  the  corner- 
stone of  every  one  of  the  great  and  splendid  churches  that 
brighten  Christendom  with  the  memory  of  devout  and  reverend 
times.  They  were  building  a  house  of  God,  and  the  treasure  and 
labor  lavished  so  abundantly  were  consecrated  as  they  might 
never  be  on  any  other  structure.  All  the  wonders  of  art, —  the 
handmaid  of  religion, —  all  the  treasures  gathered  from  many 
lands,  were  lavished  here  in  gratitude  and  praise  and  thanksgiv- 
ing; and  nothing  was  too  precious,  indeed,  all  things  failed  in 
a  measure,  to  show  the  deep  devotion  of  faithful  men,  and  their 
solemn  knowledge  of  the  majesty  of  that  Presence  that  should 
enter  and  dwell  therein. 

There  is  scant  kinship  between  this  spirit  and  that  which 
prompts  and  governs  the  construction  of  contemporary  churches. 
Were  it  restored,  if  only  in  a  small  measure,  men  would  under- 
stand more  clearly  the  fatal  error  of  the  modern  principle,  real- 
ize that  no  tricks,  no  imitations,  no  cheapnesses,  no  pretences 
of  any  kind,  are  tolerable  in  a  Christian  church,  and  that  the  ad- 
mission of  those  things  in  the  temple  of  the  living  God  is 
blasphemy.     Instead    of  the  cheap  and   tawdry  structures  of 

6 


INTRODUCTION 


shingles  and  clapboards,  or  flimsy  brick  and  stone  veneering, 
doomed  to  very  desirable  decay,  we  should  have  once  more  solid 
and  enduring  temples  that,  even  if  by  reason  of  our  artistic 
backwardness  could  not  at  first  compare  with  the  noble  work  of 
the  Middle  Age,  would  at  least  take  place  with  it  in  point  of 
honor  instead  of  standing,  as  now,  a  perpetual  reminder  of  our 
meanness  and  our  hypocrisy. 

This  is  the  first  and  highest  reason  for  church  building,  and 
the  second  is  this :  the  providing  of  a  place  apart  where  may 
be  solemnized  the  sublime  mysteries  of  the  Catholic  faith ;  a 
temple  reared  about  the  altar,  and  subordinate  to  it,  leading  up 
to  it,  as  to  the  centre  of  honor,  growing  richer  and  more  splen- 
did as  it  approaches  the  sanctuary,  where  is  concentrated  all 
the  wealth  of  obedient  and  loving  workmanship  that  may  be 
obtained  by  means  of  personal  sacrifice  through  years  that 
gather  into  centuries.  Previous  to  the  sixteenth  century  the 
churches  of  England  were  stupendous  treasure-houses,  in  which 
every  jewel  and  statue  and  picture,  every  bit  of  metal  work  and 
carving  and  embroidery,  voiced  some  personal  devotion,  some 
gratitude  of  man  for  mercies  and  blessings.  When,  at  the  word 
of  Henry  VIII.,  half  the  consecrated  treasure  was  torn  from 
the  Church  and  poured  into  the  greedy  laps  of  thieves  and  syc- 
ophants, the  spirit  of  sacrifice  and  gratitude  began  to  die  away ; 
and  when  at  last,  at  the  command  of  an  hypocritical  usurper, 
the  last  half  was  dashed  into  sorrowful  ruin  by  the  hands  of 
brutal  fanatics,  it  vanished  altogether,  and  only  in  these  last 
days  is  it  making  its  appearance  here  and  there,  as  the  old 
religious  spirit  begins  slowly  to  reassert  itself. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  argue  for  the  importance  of  this  exalted 
quality  in  church  building.  Conscience,  instinct,  impulse,  all 
urge  us  to  glorify,  with  the  extreme  of  our  power,  the  sanctuary 
of  the  Lord.     It  seems  incredible  that  in  the  last  few  centuries 


CHURCH      BUILDING 


this,  the  eminent  reason  and  law  of  church  building,  should 
have  been  so  grievously  obscured,  until  men  should  wrong- 
headedly  have  reared  their  auditoriums  and  show  structures, 
forgetting  the  supremacy  of  the  sacramental  nature  of  the 
Church  in  the  zeal  for  the  glorification  of  her  prophetic  nature. 
Such  has,  however,  been  the  case ;  but,  thanks  to  recent  events, 
it  is  no  longer  necessary  to  argue  for  a  more  just  conception  of 
things. 

The  third  aspect  of  church  architecture  is  this :  the  crea- 
tion of  spiritual  emotion  through  the  ministry  of  all  possible 
beauty  of  environment;  the  using  of  art  to  lift  men's  minds 
from  secular  things  to  spiritual,  that  their  souls  may  be  brought 
into  harmony  with  God.  The  agency  of  art  to  this  end  is  im- 
measurable, and  until  the  time  of  the  Reformers  this  fact  was 
always  recognized.  Not  in  the  barren  and  ugly  meeting-house 
of  the  Puritans,  with  its  whitewashed  walls,  three-decker  pul- 
pit and  box  pews,  were  men  most  easily  lifted  out  of  themselves 
into  spiritual  communion  with  God, —  not  there  did  they  come 
most  clearly  to  know  the  charity  and  sweetness  of  Christianity 
and  the  exalting  solemnity  of  divine  worship,  but  where  they 
were  surrounded  by  the  dim  shadows  of  mysterious  aisles,  where 
lofty  piers  of  stone  softened  high  overhead  into  sweeping  arches 
and  shadowy  vaults,  where  golden  light  struck  down  through 
storied  windows,  painted  with  the  benignant  faces  of  saints  and 
angels ;  where  the  eye  rested  at  every  turn  on  a  painted  and 
carven  Bible,  manifesting  itself  through  the  senses  to  the  imag- 
ination ;  where  every  wall,  every  foot  of  floor,  bore  its  silent 
memorial  to  the  dead,  its  thank-offering  to  God ;  where  was  al- 
ways the  faint  odor  of  old  incense,  the  still  atmosphere  of 
prayer  and  praise. 

It  was  the  fashion,  in  a  would-be  Spartan  generation,  to 
scorn  all  these  artistic  adjuncts  as  superstitious  and  idolatrous; 


INTRODUCIION 


but  the  attempt  to  succeed  without  their  aid  was  not  crowned 
with  great  success.  Art  has  been,  is,  and  will  be  forever  the 
greatest  agency  for  spiritual  impression  that  the  Church  may 
claim,  despite  the  ancient  and  modern  iconoclasts.  But  for  its 
manifestation  of  supreme  art  in  painting  and  architecture  and 
ritual,  the  Church  could  never  have  won  so  quickly  the  alle- 
giance of  the  civilized  world. 

And  this  for  the  reason  that  art  is  in  its  highest  manifesta- 
tion the  expression  of  religious  things,  and  that  only  so,  only 
through  the  spiritual  power  of  color  and  form,  light  and  shade, 
tone  and  harmony  —  in  a  word,  through  art  in  all  its  varied 
forms  —  may  religion  find  at  once  its  fullest  expression  and  its 
most  potent  incentive.  The  triumphant  architecture,  the  sub- 
lime art,  the  solemn  and  splendid  ritual  that  have  grown  be- 
neath the  beneficent  influence  of  Christianity, —  nay,  that  have 
owed  their  existence  to  the  Church  as  surely  as  they  have  ac- 
companied her  periods  of  health  and  vigor, —  are  the  instinctive 
expressions  by  men,  through  the  symbolism  of  art,  of  the  relig- 
ious emotions  she  has  created.  Art  is  at  once  the  flower  and 
fruit  of  an  age,  its  glorious  manifestation,  its  guarantee  for  the 
future,  its  fertile  seed  that  needs  but  to  fall  in  good  ground  to 
spring  up  in  tenfold  strength.  Industrial  art  depends  upon 
just  social  conditions  for  its  existence,  sensuous  art,  the  art  of 
Athens  and  Venice,  owes  its  existence  to  beauty  of  life  and  en- 
vironment ;  but  spiritual  and  divine  art  comes  only  when  the 
religious  spirit  is  dominant  and  supreme. 

That  part  of  the  Church  which  deliberately  rejects  the  min- 
istry of  art  in  her  service  does  so  at  her  own  peril, — a  peril  that 
history  has  shown  to  be  grievous,  indeed,  and  inevitable. 

If  we  are  to  see  speedy  restoration  of  Catholic  Christianity 
to  universal  acceptance,  of  the  Church  to  final  authority,  we 
must  abandon  our  niggardly  and   parsimonious  giving,  forsake 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

our  flimsy,  temporary,  chaotic  architecture,  and  build  once  more 
churches  that,  by  reason  of  their  massive  stability,  their  richness 
and  their  splendor,  the  voiceful  pictures  of  their  walls  and 
windows,  the  storied  stones  of  their  niches  and  porches  and 
pinnacles,  shall  not  only  be  worthy  of  acceptance  as  the  tem- 
ples of  God,  but  shall  show  forth  to  men  the  mystery  and  sub- 
limity of  the  Catholic  faith,  satisfy  their  stifled  cravings  for  art 
and  beauty,  lift  them  into  the  exaltation  of  spiritual  conviction. 
This  is  one  of  the  most  important  aspects  of  church  architect- 
ure, as  it  certainly  is  the  one  most  recklessly  and  universally 
ignored.  Only  among  a  people  in  a  land  and  day  when  the  art 
instinct  has  been  almost  crushed  out  by  evil  conditions  could 
this  carelessness  and  indifference  maintain.  Its  origin  may  be 
found  in  certain  clearly  known  historical  events,  its  results  may 
be  seen  with  equal  ease. 

The  fourth  aspect  of  church  building  is  the  one  which  is 
generally  considered  exclusively,  and  is  precisely  the  last  in  im- 
portance of  the  four  that  I  have  named, — the  arrangement  of  a 
building  where  a  congregation  may  conveniently  listen  to  the 
instruction  of  its  spiritual  leaders.  I  do  not  mean  for  an  instant 
that  this  quality  must  be  sacrificed  to  the  others :  a  church,  if 
it  is  properly  designed,  may  be  a  perfect  sanctuary,  a  perfect 
temple,  a  perfect  auditorium.  I  only  protest  against  that  cus- 
tom of  refusing  to  consider  any  plan  that  shows  a  single  seat 
behind  a  column,  a  nave  longer  than  it  is  wide,  or  that  does  not 
provide  a  picture-gallery  light  during  the  day  and  the  illumina- 
tion of  a  theatre  at  night. 

Some  fifteen  years  ago,  when  Richardson's  death  removed 
the  fictitious  vitality  of  the  alien  style  he  had  tried  to  make 
living,  and  it  began  to  collapse  in  the  follies  of  "  school-house 
Romanesque,"  a  few  architects,  working  quite  independently, 
began  a  kind  of  crusade  against  the  chaos  of  styles  that  hitherto 


INTRODUCTION 


had  afflicted  church  architecture.  They  began  to  study  the 
motives  and  principles  of  mediaeval  Christian  architecture 
rather  than  the  mouldings.  They  sympathized  with  the  new 
vitality  in  the  Church,  and  with  the  movements  toward  theo- 
logical as  well  as  historical  continuity.  They  conceived  the 
idea  of  giving  the  Church  a  form  of  architectural  expression 
that  should  be  in  conformity  with  the  new  tendency.  Until  the 
Reformation  the  development  of  architecture  in  England  had 
been  logical,  consistent,  healthy.  At  that  time  it  ceased  utterly, 
all  continuity  was  broken.  From  then  church  architecture  had 
been  entirely  artificial  and  perfectly  valueless ;  and,  as  the  end 
of  the  nineteenth  century  approached,  these  qualities  had  appar- 
ently reached  the  climax  of  their  development  in  America.  In 
England  the  reform  had  begun  with  the  Pugins,  and  had  been 
firmly  established  by  a  wonderful  line  of  succeeding  architects, 
until  at  last  men  like  Street,  Scott,  Pearson,  Bodley,  Garner, 
Sedding,  Austin,  Paley,  Stokes,  and  Wilson,  with  scores  of 
younger  and  equally  enthusiastic  men,  had  succeeded  in  re-es- 
tablishing the  continuity,  and  church  architecture  in  England 
was  a  living  force  again.  Upjohn  and  Renwick  had  tried  to 
bring  this  great  movement  to  America,  but  its  vitality  lapsed 
with  their  death  ;  and  Richardson  had  swept  the  very  memory  of 
it  away.  The  field  was  clear,  and  another  attempt  was  made  to 
do  on  this  continent  what  the  architects  had  accomplished  in 
England.  The  reform  was  cordially  received,  it  has  spread 
rapidly,  and  at  last  it  would  almost  seem  that  it  had  a  good 
chance  of  ultimate  victory. 

In  the  chapters  that  will  follow  this,  I  shall  try  to  take  up 
the  question  of  church  building  from  this  standpoint, —  the  stand- 
point of  an  architectural  restoration, — and  show  the  application 
of  the  ancient  and  eternal  principles  to  every  phase  of  ecclesi- 
astical architecture,  from  the  country  chapel  to  the  cathedral. 


THE   COUNTRY  CHAPEL 


In  the  introductory  chapter  I  have  spoken  of  the  history  of 
church  architecture  in  America,  and  have  roughly  named  the 
errors  of  which  we  have  been  guilty,  specified  the  motives,  the 
artistic  dogmas,  that  lie  at  the  root  of  all  good  church  building. 
Let  us  now  begin  at  the  beginning,  and  endeavor  to  apply  these 
principles,  test  existing  work  by  them,  and  see  how  ecclesi- 
astical architecture  will  manifest  itself  at  this  present  day, 
founded  as  it  must  be  on  the  architectural  history  of  all 
Christian  time,  with  the  lesson  of  the  triumphs  and  failures 
of  two  thousand  years  before  our  eyes,  the  nature  of  our  own 
peculiar  civilization,  our  own  epoch  always  in  our  minds. 

And,  above  all  else,  let  us  remember  this :  when  we  build 
here  in  America,  we  are  building  for  now^  we  are  manifesting 
the  living  Church.  It  is  art,  not  archaeology,  that  drives  us. 
From  the  past,  not  in  the  past.  We  must  return  for  the  fire 
of  life  to  other  centuries,  since  a  night  intervened  between  our 
fathers' time  and  ours  wherein  the  light  was  not;  and,  therefore, 
it  does  not  come  direct  to  our  hand.  We  must  return,  but  we 
may  not  remain.  It  is  the  present  that  demands  us, —  the  im- 
mutable Church  existing  in  times  of  the  utmost  mutability. 
We  must  express  the  Church  that  is  one  through  all  ages ;  but 
also  we  must  express  the  endless  changes  of  human  life,  the 
variation  of  environment.  This  is  church  architecture;  the 
manifestation  through  new  modes  of  the  ecclesiastical  past; 
unchangeableness  through  variety;  the  eternal  through  the 
never-fixed. 

This  question  will  command  further  and  more  detailed  con- 
sideration later  on,  when  we  approach  the  more  ambitious  work 
of  church  building ;  but  it  is  of  great  moment  here  where  we 


CHURCH     BUILDING 

are  beginning  with  the  simplest  of  the  structures  of  the  Church, 
the  chapel  and  mission  of  the  country  towns.  No  matter  how 
small  they  may  be,  how  inexpensive,  how  simple  in  design,  they 
are  yet  churches ;  and  in  the  least  of  them  one  should  be  able 
to  read  as  clearly  the  nature  of  the  power  that  brought  it  into 
existence  as  in  the  greatest  of  cathedrals.  The  country  chapel 
is  a  great  and  unsolved  problem  so  far,  at  least,  as  we  in 
America  are  concerned.  Perhaps  the  building  committee  does 
not  think  it  worth  while  to  go  to  an  architect  when  so  little 
money  is  to  be  spent ;  perhaps  some  one  has  fallen  upon  a  "  Col- 
lection of  New  and  Tasty  Designs  for  Pretty  Churches,"  issued 
by  Western  commercial  practitioners,  and  is  beguiled  by  the 
gorgeous  offer  of  "plans  and  specifications  for  one  hundred 
dollars " ;  perhaps  a  warden  or  vestryman  knows  a  deserving 
young  man  who  is  a  draughtsman  in  so  and  so's  office,  and  will 
furnish  the  drawings  at  half-price.  Whatever  the  cause,  the 
effect  is  conspicuous ;  and  the  country  chapel  —  the  kind  that 
costs  perhaps  from  $5,000  to  $10,000  and  seats  from  one  hun- 
dred to  two  hundred  people  —  is  almost  without  exception 
horrible  in  the  extreme.  Were  it  frankly  rough  and  barbarous, 
a  frontier  log  cabin,  it  would  be  honorable ;  but  it  is  not  this. 
It  is  flimsy  in  construction  and  wholly  bad  in  shape  and  com- 
position ;  but  it  is  worse  than  this,  for  it  is  made  contemptible 
by  its  "  ornamentation."  Even  where  it  is  a  perfectly  square 
box  with  a  steep  "pitch  roof,"  it  becomes  doubly  hideous 
through  the  arched  windows,  the  silly  wooden  buttresses,  the 
futile  belfries  and  pinnacles  that  are  not  ecclesiastical,  though 
their  creators  thought  so. 

This  particular  type  is  no  longer  to  be  condemned,  for  it 
has  passed ;  and  we  know  it  now  only  from  the  decaying  struct- 
ures that  still  stand,  forlorn  reminders  of  our  own  dark  ages 
and  of  the  mutability  of  timber.     It  has  passed,  but  its  place 

14 


I.    EXAMPLE  OF  FALSE  "PICTURESQUE." 


II.     EXAMPLE  OF  THE  AFFECTEDLY  PICTURESQUE. 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

is  taken  by  a  worse  and  more  pernicious  style, —  that  of  the 
chaotic,  fantastic,  would-be  picturesque  horror  that  owes  its 
existence  to  the  deadly  shingle,  the  seductive  wood-stain,  cheap 
colored  glass,  and  "  the  art  movement."    (See  Figures  I.  and  II.) 

The  commercial  "architect,"  who  prints  engaging  volumes 
of  ready-made  plans,  is  the  prophet  of  this  very  dreadful  dispen- 
sation ;  and  it  is  almost  impossible  to  characterize  its  wicked- 
ness too  strongly.  The  poverty  and  flimsiness  of  design  and 
construction  struggle  to  hide  themselves  beneath  a  cheap  and 
tawdry  elaboration,  and  the  result  is  both  very  bad  art  and 
very  bad  morals.  Small  dimensions  are  supposed  to  argue 
insignificance;  and,  to  counteract  this,  a  diminutive  structure  is 
tortured  into  a  grotesque  echo  of  some  larger  building,  with 
most  ignominious  result.  One  constantly  finds  churches,  seat- 
ing perhaps  less  than  two  hundred,  where  the  plan  is  cruciform, 
and  there  are  aisles,  clerestory,  columns  of  iron  or  wood; 
insignificant  towers,  gables,  belfries,  and  porches  complete  the 
already  shapeless  exterior ;  and  the  result  is  a  scandal. 

There  is  just  one  way  to  build  a  country  chapel,  and  that  is 
to  build  it  as  simply  as  possible  and  of  as  durable  materials  as 
may  be  obtained.  It  may  turn  out  to  be  bald  and  ugly,  but 
ugliness  is  better  than  impudence.  A  plain  and  ugly  church 
may  be  dignified  and  religious,  a  "cosey,  home-like  little 
place  "  never  can. 

This  is  the  problem :  to  build  a  shelter  for  the  altar  and 
congregation,  together  with  such  adjuncts  as  are  necessary,  for 
the  smallest  cost  consistent  with  honesty,  durability,  dignity, 
and  reverence.     Let  us  take  the  plan  first. 

In  such  a  church  as  we  are  now  considering,  there  could 
hardly  be  a  vested  choir :  therefore,  the  chancel  is  solely  for  the 
altar  and  clergy.  This  does  not  mean  that  a  little  recess  is 
enough.     More  space  is  necessary  than  is  actually  demanded 

i6  • 


THE      COUNTRY      CHAPEL 

by  the  function  of  a  sanctuary,  for  there  must  be  a  due  propor- 
tion  between  nave  and  chancel.  If  we  cannot  obtain  dignity 
through  size,  we  can  through  relation :  therefore,  the  chancel 
should  be  deep,  even  if  narrow.  It  need  not  be  divided  from 
the  nave  by  a  screen,  which  properly  belongs  only  in  a  large 
church.  A  chancel  parapet  of  plain  panels,  with  a  heavy  rood- 
beam  above  carrying  a  crucifix  or  cross,  is  the  best  indication 
of  the  transition  from  nave  to  sanctuary.  Indeed,  the  choir 
screen,  unless  very  elaborate,  is  something  of  an  affectation. 
It  is  a  question  of  design.  Some  churches  demand  it,  the 
architecture  makes  it  necessary;  but  more  often  than  not  the 
screen,  particularly  if  it  is  of  metal,  is  an  offence,  injuring 
otherwise  good  work.  Like  the  transept,  it  seems  to  belong  in 
a  church  of  great  length  and  height. 

Let  the  plan  of  the  chancel  be  as  simple  as  possible. 
Three  steps  at  the  entrance,  one  at  the  communion  rail,  and 
three  to  the  foot  pace  of  the  altar  give  the  right  elevation  in 
a  church  of  the  size  we  are  considering.  The  sanctuary  should 
be  square,  not  polygonal.  This  latter  form  is  dangerous,  and 
but  seldom  used  to  good  effect,  except  in  cathedrals  or  churches 
of  great  size.  In  a  small  church  it  is  inevitably  mean  and 
trivial  in  effect.  The  lighting  of  the  chancel  should  be  from 
high  windows  on  one  or  both  sides.  In  so  small  a  structure 
a  window  over  the  altar,  while  peculiarly  ours  by  history  and 
tradition,  is  hardly  advisable ;  for,  in  order  to  give  the  altar  its 
due  prominence  as  the  centre  and  concentration  of  the  church, 
it  should  have  space  behind  for  gradines  and  at  least  a  low 
reredos.  In  a  lofty  church  there  is  room  for  both  reredos  and 
windows.  In  a  small  church  it  is  difficult  to  have  both  without 
crowding.  It  is  far  better  to  fill  the  whole  end  with  a  dossal 
reaching  to  the  ceiling  than  it  is  to  confuse  the  eye  by  spots  of 
light   and    dark,  complications    of   glass,  wood,   and    drapery. 

17 


IV. 


THE      COUNTRY     CHAPEL 

Again,  in  a  short,  low  church  the  east  window,  even  if  filled 
with  dark  glass,  is  apt  to  be  dazzling  and  to  attract  the  eyes 
from  the  altar.  Moreover,  in  a  church  where  there  is  no  choir 
in  the  chancel,  it  is  well  to  keep  this  part  of  the  structure  quite 
dark;  for,  by  so  doing,  we  increase  the  effect  of  length  and 
size,  adding  as  well  a  touch  of  that  mystery  that  comes  from 
shadow, —  a  quality  that  should  be  achieved  in  every  church, 
and  is  easy  enough  in  ajarge  building  where  one  can  deal  with 
aisles,  chapels,  and  lofty  roofs.  I  hope  it  is  hardly  necessary  to 
say  that  a  skylight  or  any  lighting  in  the  roof  itself  is  an  out- 
rage, and  absolutely  sure  to  destroy  every  particle  of  architect- 
ural effect  or  religious  impression. 

The  size  of  the  nave  is  determined  by  the  number  of  sit- 
tings :  this,  of  course ;  but  the  question  of  proportion  is  a  very 
different  matter.  The  narrower  it  is,  the  better  for  acoustics, 
appearance,  and  economy  of  construction.  Twenty  feet  in  the 
clear  is  about  the  minimum ;  for  this  gives  two  pews,  each 
seating  five  persons,  and  a  central  aisle  about  four  and  a  half 
feet  wide.  To  seat  two  hundred  people,  twenty  rows  of  ten 
seats  each  would  be  necessary,  making  the  nave  from  rear  wall 
to  chancel  parapet  about  sixty-five  feet, —  a  good  proportion. 
With  every  foot  the  nave  is  widened  and  shortened,  something 
of  the  effect  is  lost,  while  the  acoustics  are  not  improved  and 
the  cost  is  increased.  It  is  easy  and  inexpensive  to  roof  a  span 
of  twenty  feet,  but  it  is  three  times  as  costly  to  roof  a  span  of 
double  this  width. 

If  it  can  possibly  be  managed,  the  walls  should  be  high,  the 
roof  low  in  pitch ;  yet  since,  where  this  method  is  followed,  the 
walls,  to  be  in  good  proportion,  must  be  a  few  feet  more  in 
height  than  the  width  of  the  nave,  the  quantity  of  stone  in  the 
walls  is  doubled,  and  this  means  extra  cost.  On  the  other 
hand,  a  roof  of  low  pitch  costs  much  less  than  a  steep  one ;  for 

'9 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

you  can  get  a  tie  beam  at  the  level  of  the  plate  in  this  case, 
where  with  a  steep  roof  on  low  walls  you  are  prohibited  from 
doing  this,  and  are  forced  to  construct  an  expensive  truss.  Of 
course,  an  iron  tie  rod  is  a  crime  that  no  intelligent  architect 
would  consent  to  for  an  instant. 

With  high  side  walls  it  is  possible  to  keep  the  sills  of  the 
windows  well  above  the  floor,  and  this  is  most  desirable.  There 
was  once  a  fashion  of  making  the  windows  low ;  but  this  is  a 
bad  plan,  and  gives  extremely  ineffective  lighting.  Where  the 
side  walls  must,  on  the  score  of  cost,  be  reduced  in  height,  the 
sills  of  the  windows  should  be  kept  high,  even  if  the  windows 
themselves  become  very  small.  They  may  not  give  much  light ; 
but  this  is  not  a  fault,  if  the  west  window  is  made  large,  for  this 
will  sufficiently  light  the  church  and  from  the  right  point. 

The  arrangement  of  the  choir  space,  where  the  choristers 
are  not  vested,  is  somewhat  difficult ;  but,  since  this  condition  is 
almost  inevitable  in  small  churches,  it  must  be  solved,  and 
solved  rightly.  The  old-fashioned  scheme  of  organ  and  mixed 
choir  at  the  west  end  in  a  gallery  is  good,  and  is  usually  fol- 
lowed by  Roman  churches  of  whatever  size.  It  is  not  very 
popular  with  us,  for  some  reason  or  other,  probably  because 
chancel  choirs  have  become  so  fashionable.  If  it  is  desired 
that  the  music  be  near  the  chancel,  then  a  space  may  be  pro- 
vided opening  either  into  the  chancel  itself,  as  in  Figures  III., 
VII.,  and  IX.,  or  into  the  nave,  as  in  Figure  V.  In  either 
case  there  should  be  access  to  this  choir  space  from  outside, 
so  that  the  singers  and  organist  need  not  pass  through  the 
congregation,  and  the  choir  may  be  shielded  from  view. 

In  the  matter  of  design,  of  architectural  style,  cost  is  of 
course  the  limiting  quality  in  work  of  the  kind  we  are  now  con- 
sidering ;  yet  economy  need  not  mean  inferiority.  If  the  law 
followed  is  that  of  perfect  simplicity,  it  is  hard  to  go  far  wrong. 


VI. 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

It  is  only  when  there  is  an  ill-considered  striving  after  inex- 
pensive elaboration  that  there  is  trouble.  There  must  always 
be  the  basis  of  a  long  and  narrow  parallelogram  covered  with 
a  simple  roof,  unbroken  from  end  to  end.  Square  plans  and 
complicated  roofs  kill  all  repose,  all  dignity,  all  effect.  A 
tower  is  fatal  unless  it  can  be  large  enough  to  be  respectable. 
The  little  square  erections  with  or  without  wooden  spires  are  an 
offence.  As  will  be  shown  later,  central  towers  are  impos- 
sible, unless  the  church  is  of  good  size.  The  west  tower  on 
the  axis  of  the  nave,  simply  a  continuation,  as  it  were,  of  one 
bay  of  the  nave  itself,  is  the  position  that  is  sanctioned  by  prec- 
edent and  artistic  law ;  but  it  is  expensive,  and  almost  out  of 
the  question  in  a  small  church.  Figures  IV.,  VI.,  VIII.,  and 
X.  show  several  treatments  of  the  exteriors  of  small  churches, 
two  without  towers,  one  with  the  western  position,  one  with  the 
tower  on  the  side  and  used  as  a  kind  of  chapel  or  transept. 
Figure  XI.  is  an  example  of  the  chaotic  and  reckless  designing 
that  is  an  offence  to  God  and  man. 

We  cannot  hope  to  rival  the  little  churches  of  England  in 
this  day  and  generation,  for  conditions  absolutely  prevent  the 
hearty  lavishing  of  labor  that  was  characteristic  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  The  cut  stone  and  carving,  the  elaborate  stone  tracery, 
the  buttresses  and  balustrades  and  pinnacles  are  out  of  the 
question.  We  cannot  restore  the  externals  of  the  Gothic  style ; 
but  we  can  endeavor  to  re-create  the  underlying  spirit,  and  lead 
it  to  express  itself  in  the  new  forms  we  must  impose  on  it.  We 
can  begin  by  building  in  stone,  not  in  wood;  for,  though  it  costs 
more  at  first,  it  is  permanent,  and  it  is  respectful.  Almost  any 
local  ledge  stone  will  serve  if  it  has  a  fairly  even  face:  the 
cobble-stone  style,  the  absurd  result  of  a  misguided  attempt  at 
the  "  sweetly-picturesque,"  is  very  shocking  (see  Figure  XII.); 
and  it  is  safe  to  say  that  this  kind  of  stone  —  that  is,  rounded 

22 


VII. 


^.^-y...c5»?«^.'^""-"-'- 


VIII. 


THE      COUNTRY      CHAPEL 

field  stones  —  can  never  be  used  under  any  circumstance  what- 
ever. A  wall  must  have  unity  and  coherency :  if  it  lacks  these 
qualities,  it  is  not  a  wall ;  and  round  stones  absolutely  prevent 
these  results.  What  is  called  "seam-faced"  granite  is  the  very 
best  material  where  it  can  be  obtained.  In  the  Central  West, 
limestone  and  sandstone  are  comparatively  cheap ;  and  they,  of 
course,  make  an  ideal  wall,  provided  they  are  used  with  a 
sawed  or  dressed  surface.  The  so-called  "  rock-faced  "  ashlar  is 
exactly  the  wickedest  building  material,  next  to  round  field 
stones,  that  has  ever  been  used.  Where  stone  is  out  of  the 
question,  brick  may  be  employed,  if  it  is  common  red  brick 
with  a  rough  surface  and  is  laid  up  in  common  mortar.  Fancy 
brick  and  colored  mortar  can  never  be  used. 

In  the  matter  of  interior  treatment  the  law  of  simplicity 
and  reserve  holds  equally  good.  Stone,  except  in  the  smallest 
quantities,  is  out  of  the  question  because  of  its  cost :  brick  has 
yet  to  be  used  successfully  in  this  country ;  plain  plaster  finish 
for  the  walls  seems  the  only  alternative,  and,  when  treated  in 
flat  color  without  the  slightest  attempt  at  decoration,  is  digni- 
fied and  respectable.  The  roof  must,  of  course,  be  wholly  of 
wood.  The  barbarous  mode  of  half  a  century  ago  of  filling  in 
the  panels  between  the  trusses  with  plaster  is  out  of  the 
question,  and  probably  no  longer  suggests  itself.  The  con- 
struction of  the  roof  should  be  of  the  simplest ;  and,  if  oak  or 
elm  is  too  expensive  for  the  sheathing,  cypress  can  be  used. 
Indeed,  in  the  simplest  churches,  the  framing  may  be  of  the 
ordinary  building  timber,  planed,  of  course,  and  in  any  case, 
whether  natural  oak  or  spruce,  stained  dark  brown  and  finished 
with  a  dull  surface.  American  woods  in  their  natural  condi- 
tion, with  the  exception  of  black  cypress,  which  is  most  beauti- 
ful, but  very  expensive,  are  too  yellow  and  too  light  ever  to  be 
employed.  This  is  particularly  true  of  hard  pine,  which  is  bad 
in  color  and  does  not  take  stain  well. 

25 


XI.    EXAMPLE  OF  VICIOUS  DESIGN. 


L^  Lj. ■.,■■* ^.■. ._  .  ..  .J    .  ...j^.  ■■■iiiti.HtiTiii, ',aanf, 

XII.    EXAMPLE  OF  BAD  STONE  WORK  AND  AFFECTED  DESIGN. 


THE      COUNTRY      CHAPEL 

The  question  of  stained  glass  will  be  taken  up  later.  Here 
it  is  only  necessary  to  say  that,  unless  figure  windows  by  the 
best  men  can  be  had,  it  is  better  to  use  plain  *'  cathedral  glass  " 
in  some  warm  color,  set  in  diamond-shaped  quarries  in  heavy 
leads,  than  it  is  to  try  to  get  an  effect  with  cheap  glass. 

All  the  richness  and  cost  in  the  furniture  should  be  lavished 
on  the  altar,  which  may  be  made  as  elaborate  as  the  money  will 
allow.  It  does  no  harm  to  have  an  altar  of  immense  richness 
in  the  plainest  little  church ;  but  an  elaborate  pulpit  and 
lectern,  particularly  if  they  are  of  lacquered  brass,  are  in 
exceedingly  bad  taste,  if  they  outshine  the  altar.  Of  course, 
they  are  pretty  sure  to  be  in  bad  taste,  anyway,  if  they  are  in 
brass, — a  material  that  can  only  be  used  very  sparingly.  Even 
in  very  small  churches  the  altar  should  be  large,  eight  feet  in 
length  being  about  the  minimum,  though  side  altars  may  be 
shorter.  The  bishop's  chair,  which  is  a  throne  only  in  cathe- 
drals, should  be  very  simple,  and  should  stand  to  the  north  of 
the  altar  and  facing  it.  The  credence  is  placed  on  the  south,  as 
are  also  the  sedilia  for  the  priests,  should  these  be  necessary. 
The  communion  rail  should  always  be  very  simple,  fancy  brass 
work  being  most  out  of  place.  Where  there  is  no  vested  choir, 
the  lectern  may  very  well  stand  in  the  centre  of  the  chancel, 
before  the  altar,  in  the  old  monastic  fashion.  The  best  form  is 
the  carved  support  with  a  triangular,  revolving  book-rest.  The 
pulpit  should  be  on  the  north,  or  gospel  side :  it  should  be  well 
elevated ;  and,  the  plainer  it  is,  the  better.  As  I  have  said  above, 
the  trade  pulpit  of  lacquered  brass  is  exceedingly  wicked.  One 
thing  that  it  is  well  to  remember,  particularly  in  small  churches, 
is  that  the  lighting  at  night  should  be  from  the  side,  not  from 
central  chandeliers,  since  these  are  dazzling,  and  conflict  with 
the  altar. 

Sometimes  there  is  not  money  available  even  for   a  church 

27 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

of  the  roughest  stone,  and  wood  is  the  only  material  that  can  be 
used.  Where  this  is  the  case,  it  is  better  to  treat  the  new 
building  as  a  frankly  temporary  shelter,  built  to  last  only  until 
a  real  church  can  be  erected.  It  is  foolish  to  waste  a  dollar  on 
such  a  structure  as  this,  and  it  is  better  to  spend  no  more  than 
what  will  barely  suffice  to  make  a  shelter  than  to  throw  it  away 


XIII.    EXAMPLE  OF  GOOD  ENGLISH  DESIGN. 


on  boards  and  shingles.  One  can  worship  God  in  a  barn ;  but 
it  is  denied  to  us  to  build  flimsy  wooden  shanties  to  His  glory, 
and  to  try  to  deceive  Him  by  the  cheap  ornament  wherewith 
we  hoodwink  our  neighbors.  If  it  is  worth  while  building  a 
church,  it  is  worth  building  it  well ;  and,  if  this  generation  has 
not  the  funds,  then  let  the  work  wait  for  the  next. 

Wood  is  a  fascinating  material,  particularly  in  the  form  of 
shingles :  one  can  build  much  with  it,  and  at  small  cost ;  but  the 
temptation  to  frivolity  and  fantastic  complication  is  almost 
irresistible.     It  is  easy  to  pile  up  irregular  gables  and  porches 

28 


THE      COUNTRY      CHAPEL 

and  belfries,  and  the  result  is  popularly  held  to  be  picturesque ; 
but  it  isn't,  it  is  only  silly.  Great  or  small,  a  church  must 
have  dignity  and  reserve ;  and  where  great  size  does  not  give 
these  things,  in  spite  of  the  vagaries  of  the  unhampered  archi- 
tect, it  is  particularly  necessary  that  the  utmost  care  should  be 


exercised  to  get  the  proportions  right  and  the  first  effect  simple 
and  even  severe.  Recently  a  fashion  has  developed  of  treating 
a  small  church  like  a  cottage,  of  trying  to  obtain  an  effect  of 
"  cosiness,"  which  is  quite  the  most  wrong-headed  scheme  that 
has  offered.  A  church  is  a  church,  not  a  sitting  room ;  and, 
even  if  it  seats  only  a  hundred  people,  it  must  be  a  church  in 
every  detail.  Consider  the  old  English  churches  shown  in 
Figures  XIV.  and  XVI.  They  are  very  small,  yet  they  are 
unmistakably  religious  in  their  function;  while  figures  I.,  II., 

29 


CHURCH      BUILDING 


and  XI.  might  be  school-houses  almost,  or  libraries,  or  fire- 
engine  houses.  They  are  without  self-respect,  without  nobility, 
even  without  decency. 


XV.    EXAMPLE  OF   GOOD   ENGLISH   DESIGN. 


The  little  parish  church  of  England  is  the  most  perfect  type 
ever  produced,  and  must  therefore  be  for  us  a  model  in  every 
way.  The  fad  for  "  Romanesque  "  is  dead,  fortunately ;  and  the 
latest  fashion,  "  Parisian  Renaissance,"  can  never  be  applied  to 
church  work.  We  have  tried  many  things,  but,  in  the  end,  we 
are  driven  back  where,  logically  and  historically,  we  belong ;  and, 

30 


THE      COUNTRY      CHAPEL 

if  we  try  to  do  what  our  English  forefathers  did,  without  trying 
to  copy  their  work,  we  cannot  go  very  far  wrong. 

In  Figures  III.,  IV.,  V.,  VI.,  VII.,  VIII.,  IX.,  and  X.  are 
shown  plans  and  exteriors  of  small  churches  studied  from  this 
source.  They  are  not  copies  of  English  originals :  they  are 
only  inspired  by  them.  It  would  be  possible,  of  course,  to 
measure  some  old  church  and  reproduce  it  exactly;  but  this 


XVI.    THE  PERFECT  TYPE. 


would  be  inexcusable  affectation,  it  would  be  bad  art.  Into 
every  design  produced  at  this  time  must  enter  something  of  the 
personality  of  the  architect,  a  great  deal  of  the  contemporary 
quality  of  the  church.  Our  sense  of  economy  forbids  our 
making  a  church  any  larger  than  is  absolutely  necessary ;  and 
so  we  cannot  have  the  dark  aisles  with  their  stone  piers  and 
chiselled  arches,  the  side  chapels  and  chantries,  the  lofty  roofs 
and  deep  chancels  that  are  such  facile  means  of  producing 
structures  of   dignity  and   grandeur,  so  sure  a  guarantee  of 

31 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

mystery  and  awe  in  the  final  effect.  Neither  do  we  altogether 
need  these  adjuncts  to  nave  and  chancel  as  yet.  Therefore, 
we  must  do  the  best  we  can  without;  and,  though  the  task 
is  harder,  it  is  not  beyond  the  powers  of  our  achievement. 
With  study  and  seriousness  of  purpose,  we  can  build  small 
churches  that  shall  be  as  religious  and  as  worthy  in  their  degree 
as  the  cathedral  itself;  and  this  is  an  absolute  duty. 

Reduced  to  a  sentence,  then,  is  not  this  the  law  of  church 
building  as  applied  to  country  chapels?  Build  in  stone  or 
brick ;  plan  with  rigid  simplicity ;  design  both  exterior  and  in- 
terior with  reserve,  formality,  and  self-control ;  have  the  mass 
simple,  the  composition  equally  so ;  imitate  no  form  or  detail 
of  larger  structures,  but  work  for  the  dignity  and  the  reverence 
that  are  theirs ;  above  all,  let  the  spirit  be  that  of  the  unchang- 
ing Church,  the  form  alone  that  of  the  present  day. 


32 


THE  VILLAGE  CHURCH 


It  was  in  England  during  the  Middle  Ages  that  this  particu- 
lar type  of  religious  architecture  —  indeed,  of  the  religious  life  it 
so  beautifully  expressed  —  reached  the  highest  point  of  its  devel- 
opment. On  the  Continent  the  cathedral  seemed  the  unit,  the 
ecclesiastical  centre  of  the  people  of  a  region;  but  in  England, 
where  the  village  was  more  perfectly  developed,  the  parish 
church  became  the  vital  centre  of  a  community.  In  this  land, 
which  is  also  our  own,  it  is  not  so  much  the  cathedrals  that  in- 
spire our  wonder  and  admiration  as  it  is  the  matchless  little 
churches,  scattered  so  lavishly  over  a  fertile  land  that  even  now, 
after  revolution  and  brutal  iconoclasm  have  done  their  worst, 
scarcely  a  village  is  to  be  found  where  there  is  not  at  least  one 
church  redolent  of  the  love  and  self-sacrifice  and  devotion  of 
perished  generations. 

There  is  a  strange  personality  about  these  churches,  an  inti- 
mate, human  quality  that  one  looks  elsewhere  for  in  vain.  They 
are  without  splendor  or  magnificence ;  they  possess  nothing  of 
the  premeditated  grandeur,  the  proud  magniloquence,  of  the 
cathedrals  and  abbeys ;  there  is  little  evidence  of  a  clear  and 
preconceived  design.  They  are  simply  the  living  monuments  of 
the  sane  and  healthy  devotion,  of  the  joyful  Christian  faith,  of 
men  to  whom  religion  was  the  beginning  and  end  of  all  things, 
—  even  though  there  was  much  between. 

The  village  church  was  the  centre  of  civilization;  it  was  the 
source  of  education,  the  guardian  of  the  privileges  of  the  people, 
the  spring  of  material  aid  and  spiritual  consolation.  In  all 
healthy  society  there  is  an  inextinguishable  hunger  for  beauty, 
and  this  hunger  the  Church  satisfied  in  the  fullest  degree.  Set 
in  an  environment  of  natural  beauty,  the  enduring  stone  was 

33 


CHURCH      BUILDING 


raised  in  fabrics  that,  if  not  imposing  and  awful,  were  always 
grateful  and  satisfying.  All  over  the  exterior  the  stone  masons, 
not  then  unthinking  mechanics  at  so  many  dollars  a  day, 
wrought  out  their  fancies,  their  ideals,  even  their  merry  humors, 
through  the  stubborn   but  enduring  medium  of  sandstone  and 


XVII.     ST.  CUTHBERT'S,  WELLS. 

marble.  Within,  every  man  and  woman  capable  of  crafty  handi- 
work—  and  this  then  meant  the  whole  body  of  the  people  — 
found  a  fair  and  welcoming  field.  Great  windows  rich  with  fan- 
tastic tracery  were  to  be  filled  with  splendid  glass ;  the  altars 
were  to  be  adorned  with  fretted  screens  and  canopied  niches 
and  carven  figures  of  saints ;  stalls  and  pulpit,  lectern  and  sedi- 
lia  were  to  be  reared  of  fine  woods  and  chiselled  into  marvellous 


34 


THE     VILLAGE      CHURCH 

richness  of  panels  and  pinnacles,  canopies  and  poppy-heads. 
There  was  an  organ  to  be  built  and  cased  in  elaborate  wood- 
work, lamps  and    candlesticks  to  be  wrought  of  yellow  brass. 


XVIII.     CHURCH   AT  HARBERTON. 


and  sacred  vessels  of  gold  and  silver,  studded  with  precious 
stones.  There  was  leather  to  be  gilded  and  embossed  for  seats 
and  wall  hangings  and  the  covers  of  missals  and  breviaries,  and 
the  latter  themselves  to  be  engrossed  and  illuminated  on  vellum 
and  parchment.  There  were  frescos  and  religious  pictures  to 
be  painted,  damask  and  tapestry  to  be  wrought,  altar  vestments, 

35 


Austin  &  Paiey,  Architects. 
XIX.    ST.  GEORGE'S,  STOCKPORT. 


THE     VILLAGE      CHURCH 

copes,  stoles,  and  chasubles  to  be  embroidered.  Finally,  there 
were  the  memorial  brasses  to  be  graved  when,  one  by  one,  they 
became  necessary,  and,  perhaps,  the  altar-tombs,  the  chantries, 
and  the  chapels. 

So  the  parish  church  grew  like  a  living  thing ;  and,  as  it  de- 
veloped, it  drew  to  itself  every  soul  in  the  community,  tying 
them  by  every  bond  of  love  and  memory  and  association.  It 
was  never  completed ;  for  it  was  living,  and  finality  was  impos- 
sible. It  was  not  only  the  symbol  of  human  unity :  it  was  that 
unity,  made  up  of  all  that  lay  within  its  control. 

An  inexhaustible  field  for  the  loving  labor  and  the  pious  in- 
dustry of  the  people,  it  became  as  well  the  source  of  delight  and 
aesthetic  satisfaction  for  new  generations.  Picture  galleries  and 
museums  and  concert  halls  were  unnecessary ;  for  here  was  all 
art  freely  given,  and  in  its  highest  forms.  A  constant  incentive 
to  artistic  effort,  the  parish  church  became  the  very  power  that 
made  this  effort  possible,  inspiring  men,  educating  them,  creat- 
ing in  them  the  impulse  to  art  work,  giving  them  the  very 
ability  to  make  it  possible. 

There  came  a  day  when,  in  the  providence  of  God,  a  nation 
gone  mad  was  permitted  to  shatter  the  lace-like  carving  into 
ragged  fragments,  to  beat  the  delicate  statues  into  ruin,  to  cart 
the  jewelled  windows  away  and  dump  them  into  ditches,  to  burn 
the  fretted  woodwork  and  the  precious  vestments  and  the  illu- 
minated missals,  and  to  hand  over  to  a  few  crafty  knaves  the 
jewels  and  the  treasures  that  had  been  consecrated  to  God. 

Whether  or  no  this  episode  may  be  looked  upon  as  a  suffi- 
cient cause,  it  is  quite  clear  that  the  description  given  above 
does  not  apply  with  accuracy  to  the  modern  parish  church  in 
American  villages.  Of  course,  the  conditions  have  quite 
changed ;  but,  if  we  cannot  have  now  a  village  church  that  shall 
be  the  church  of  the  whole  people,  we  ought  at  least  to  have 

37 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

one  that  for  those  who  worship  there  should  be  something  of 
what  similar  churches  were  a  few  hundred  years  ago.  Of  course 
where  a  church  is  open  only  at  the  hours  of  service  on  Sunday, 


XX.    ST.  JOHN'S,  COVENTRY. 

this  is  quite  impossible ;  and  the  building  must  remain  a  purely 
artificial  fabric,  without  personality  or  sympathy.  There  is  a 
very  popular  movement  to  reform  this  altogether ;  and,  though 
it  started  in  the  larger  cities,  it  is  extending  rapidly  into  the 
villages.     To  be  sure,  one  might  criticise  it  in  certain  ways,  par- 

38 


THE     VILLAGE      CHURCH 

ticularly  on  the  score  of  its  apparent  devotion  to  the  develop- 
ment of  the  parish  house  to  the  total  disregard  of  the  church ; 
but,  in  spite  of  errors,  the  tendency  is  wholesome  and  righteous, 


XXI.    CHURCH  OF  OUR  SAVIOUR,  MIDDLEBOROUGH,  MASS. 

and  when,  by  and  by,  it  extends  from  the  parish  parlor,  the 
kindergarten,  and  the  bowling-alley  to  the  sanctuary,  it  will  have 
found  its  true  bearings,  and  begin  to  show  the  noble  results 
that  will  then  be  possible. 

But  even  now  there  is  no  valid  reason  why  we  should  not 

39 


XXII.     PLAN  OF  CHURCH  OF  OUR  SAVIOUR. 


XXIII.    CHURCH  OF  OUR  SAVIOUR,  MIDDLEBOROUGH,  MASS. 


THE     VILLAGE      CHURCH 

accept  the  old  idea  of  the  church  as  a  fabric,  and,  recognizing 
the  very  unique  and  exalted  nature  of  the  problem,  and  the 
honorable  results  that  are  possible,  try  to  build  village  churches 
that  shall  be  worthy  to  stand  with  those  our  forefathers  built 
in  the  old  home  four  centuries  ago.  We  dont  do  it :  we  build 
recklessly,  thoughtlessly,  extravagantly,  often ;  and,  as  a  result, 
our  village  churches  are  no  more  consistent  than  are  our  secu- 
lar buildings.  Who  is  to  blame }  Well,  every  one  connected 
with  the  work,  in  some  degree.  The  rector,  perhaps,  because 
he  has  been  in  England  and  has  read  "  Parker's  Glossary," 
and  so  thinks  that  he  can  lay  down  the  general  lines  of  the  de- 
sign and  direct  the  chosen  architect ;  the  building  committee, 
because  they  have  certain  practical  theories  which  they  insist 
shall  be  expressed  or  followed  ;  the  congregation,  because  they 
will  make  no  sacrifice  in  order  that  the  new  church  shall  be  as 
beautiful  as  those  in  the  Middle  Ages ;  the  architect,  because  he 
has  not  the  slightest  sympathy  with  ecclesiastical  architecture, 
doesn't  know  what  the  word  "  Gothic  "  means,  and  is  interested 
only  in  getting  a  conspicuous  edifice  and  his  commission. 
Above  all,  the  chief  blame  is  to  be  attributed  to  the  nature  of 
the  times  in  which  we  live,  when  impatience  demands  a  com- 
pleted structure  on  the  day  of  dedication  ;  when  everything  must 
be  done  by  hired  workmen,  perfectly  indifferent  and  without 
any  feeling  for  beauty ;  when  the  "  Ecclesiastical  Art  Fur- 
nisher" is  rampant,  and  public  opinion  does  not  make  it  a 
crime  to  buy  his  wares.  We  have  been  so  long  without  art 
that  it  is  no  longer  instinctive,  but  is  become  a  commodity 
that  the  building  committee  expects  to  buy  from  its  architects. 
Verily,  it  would  seem  that  there  were  reasons  why  we  should 
not  build  as  our  fathers  builded  in  the  fifteenth  century ;  but, 
if  so,  there  are  none  why  we  should  not  try  to  do  so.  It  is 
being  done  every  day  in  England :  why  not  here  }     Not  that  we 

41 


XXIV.     PLAN    OF    ALL    SAINTS'. 


XXV.    ALL    SAINTS',    DORCHESTER   (BOSTON). 


THE     VILLAGE      CHURCH 

should  wholly  succeed :  this  must  be  forever  impossible,  or,  at 
all  events,  out  of  the  question  until  we  have  a  civilization  that 
once  more  makes  the  appreciation  of  beauty  and  the  ability  to 
do  artistic  work  instinctively,  as  much  a  part  of  life  as  it  was 
then.  But  we  could  at  least  have  the  honor  of  trying,  and  the 
results  would  be  better  than  those  that  confront  us  now. 

To  build  a  church  rightly,  it  is  necessary  to  do  three  things: 
first,  to  build  in  the  only  style  that  we  have  any  right  to,  and 
that  has  any  kinship  with  the  American  branch  of  the  Angli- 
can communion  of  the  Catholic  Church ;  second,  to  select  an 
architect  who  believes  in  the  Church  and  sympathizes  with  her, 
who  understands  Gothic  as  a  living,  not  an  historic  style,  and 
then  to  rely  on  him  implicitly;  third,  to  build  a  little  now, 
and  build  it  right,  instead  of  trying  to  build  a  great  deal,  and  as 
a  result  building  it  meanly.     Let  us  consider  these  three  points. 

The  matter  of  style  is  vital :  there  is  a  vicious  tendency  to 
follow  a  fashion,  and  so  obtain  something  "  up  to  date  "  in  de- 
sign. This  is  quite  fatal.  There  is  one  style,  and  only  one, 
that  we  have  a  right  to ;  and  that  is  Gothic  as  it  was  when  all  art 
was  destroyed  at  the  time  of  the  Reformation.  But  this  is  only 
the  basis :  from  this  starting-point  we  must  advance,  in  order 
to  prevent  a  dead  archaism.  We  can't  work  in  some  perfected 
period  of  Gothic,  like  Early  English,  for  example,  or  Decorated, 
or  Flamboyant.  Neither  can  we  use  Norman  or  Romanesque, 
and  still  less  can  we  wander  into  the  delectable  but  pernicious 
paths  of  the  Renaissance.  This  would  be  affectation ;  but  we 
can  assume  anything  we  like  from  these  styles  or  from  any 
others,  so  long  as  we  assimilate  them,  make  them  integral 
parts  of  a  great  whole.  But  the  base  of  it  all,  the  primary 
architectural  impulse,  must  be  that  of  the  last  days  of  Gothic 
architecture  in  England ;  namely,  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury. 

43 


XXVI.     ST.  ANDREW'S,  DETROIT,  MICHIGAN. 


XXVII.     ST.  MARY'S,  HERTS. 


THE     VILLAGE      CHURCH 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  prove  that  Gothic  is  the  one  style 
in  which  we  can  work.  This  is  generally  admitted,  now  that  the 
late  architectural  episode  has  died  in  the  humiliation  of  "  school- 
house  Romanesque  " ;  and  the  new  fashion  of  Parisian  Renais- 
sance has  nothing  to  offer,  and  so  per  force  drives  its  devotees 
to  a  cynical  disregard  of  the  Church.  But  "  Gothic  "  as  a  term 
has  not  as  yet  differentiated  itself.  Too  often  it  means  anything 
done  in  any  country  of  Europe  between  the  thirteenth  and  six- 
teenth centuries.  Hence  we  only  have  buildings  that  try  to 
appear,  in  detail  at  least,  of  some  particular  time  and  some  special 
land.  This  is  archaeology,  not  architecture.  If  we  are  to  build 
honorably,  we  must  take  up  the  life  of  church  building  where  it 
was  severed,  and  continue  from  that  point,  adding  what  we 
will,  of  course,  so  long  as  we  assimilate  it,  borrowing  anything 
that  is  available  from  earlier  periods,  even  from  as  far  back 
as  the  Norman.  But  the  root  must  be  the  English  Perpendic- 
ular Gothic  of  the  early  sixteenth  century. 

Doing  just  this  is  what  has  made  the  English  church  archi- 
tects of  this  generation  great  men,  and  has  created  a  vital 
school  of  church  building  in  that  country.  Doing  just  the 
reverse  is  what  has  abandoned  us  to  chaos. 

The  selection  of  an  architect  is  quite  as  important  a  matter 
as  the  restriction  of  style.  It  is  apt  to  be  left  almost  to  chance. 
There  are  scores  of  really  great  architects  in  America.  There 
are,  perhaps,  a  half-dozen  who  feel  Gothic,  understand  it,  and 
can  therefore  work  in  it  as  the  Church  must  demand  they 
should  work.  There  are  many  who  can  copy  Magdalen  tower 
intelligently,  who  can  draw  accurate  thirteenth-century  mould- 
ings, and  who  can  select  good  tracery  from  photographs  and 
measured  drawings ;  but  these  are  not  available  men  if  we  are 
to  build  living  churches.  Yet,  if  a  church  is  to  be  built,  a  com- 
petition is  announced  ;  and   any  architect  who  has  a  friend  at 

45 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

court  is  asked  to  submit  designs.  He  may  be  an  "  archaeol- 
ogist," a  classicist,  a  patron  of  Romanesque ;  but  it  is  assumed 
that  at  least  he  can  design  so  simple  a  thing  as  a  Gothic  church. 
Then,  when  the  plans  are  all  in,  the  building  committee,  half 


Bodley  &  Garner,  Architects. 
XXVIII.    HOARCROSS  CHURCH. 

of  whom  have  perhaps  never  been  in  England,  pick  out  the 
scheme  that  looks  best  on  paper,  regardless  of  the  abilities  or 
the  sympathies  of  the  designer. 

Then  the  authorities  begin  their  instructions.  "  There 
shall  be  no  east  window,  for  we  don't  like  the  light  in  that 
place."     "No:  we  can  have  no  big  columns  to  obstruct  the 

46 


XXIX.     ST.  STEPHEN'S,  COH ASSET,  MASS. 


McKim,  Mead  &  White,  Architects. 
XXX.    ST.  PETER'S  CHURCH,  MORRISTOWN,  N.J. 


CHURCH      BUILDING 


view  of  the  pulpit."  "  Those  windows  are  too  high :  we  must 
have  the  sills  lower."  "  A  ^30,000  church  without  a  transept 
and  a  polygonal  chancel  and  a  fine  steep  roof  ?  Absurd !  We 
must  have  all  these  things."  "  A  rose  window  is  very  lovely : 
put  one  in  the  front.  And  we  must  have  a  triforium  and  a 
narthex  and  a  cunning  little  octagonal  baptistery,  by  all  means." 


XXXI.     EXAMPLE  OF  UNINTELLIGENT  DESIGN. 


This  is  hardly  the  way  to  build  a  good  church.  In  the  first 
place,  a  competition  is  exactly  the  worst  way  to  choose  an 
architect.  Instead,  one  should  be  selected  solely  on  the  ground 
of  the  work  he  has  done ;  and,  once  chosen,  his  hands  should  be 
free  until  the  day  the  church  is  consecrated.  In  only  one  thing 
should  he  be  held  under  rigid  control,  and  that  is  the  matter  of 
cost.     In  design,  materials,  methods,  his  word  should  be  final. 

I  grant  that  it  is  quite  wrong  that  this  should  be  so.     We 

48 


THE     VILLAGE      CHURCH 

ought  to  be  able  to  build  a  church  without  the  intervention  of 
an  architect,  but  we  can't.  He  is  a  product  of  the  new  condi- 
tions of  life  wherein  art  is  an  exotic,  no  longer  the  inalienable 
right  of  the  people  ;  and,  so  long  as  these  conditions  continue, 
he  is  a  necessary  evil.  No  single  architect  can  build  as  per- 
fectly as  the  old  priests  and  abbots  and  stone  masons ;  but  he 
can  build  better  than  anybody  else  in  this  day  and  generation, 
and  so  he  must  be  accepted  and  his  authority  recognized. 

I  have  said  above  that,  in  order  to  build  well,  it  is  necessary 
to  build  a  little  and  build  it  right.  Let  us  suppose  that  a  village 
parish  has  ^30,000  to  spend  on  a  church  to  seat  three  hundred 
people.  The  tendency  nowadays  is  to  try  to  get  a  structure 
complete  down  to  the  last  electric  light  burner  and  square  foot 
of  carpet.  To  do  this,  everything  must  be  "  scamped."  The 
walls  must  be  of  rubble,  plastered  inside ;  the  cut  stone  of  the 
exterior,  perfectly  plain,  without  moulding  or  carving;  the  win- 
dow  tracery  must  be  of  wood,  and  the  floor  also ;  the  chancel 
furniture,  thin  and  plain ;  the  whole  design,  small,  unimposing, 
and  poor.  Twenty  years  later  the  structure  is  outgrown  and 
shabby.  Then  it  is  torn  down ;  and  the  $30,000  is  lost,  or  else 
twice  the  sum  is  expended  in  unavailing  attempts  to  magnify 
an  insignificant  thing  into  dignity. 

The  money  spent  on  such  a  building,  if  devoted  to  the  con- 
struction of  just  so  much  of  a  great  design  as  was  necessary 
to  provide  for  the  religious  offices  and  the  accommodation  of 
the  people,  would  not  have  been  wasted.  A  lofty  choir  might 
have  been  built,  together  with,  perhaps,  half  the  nave.  All  the 
stone  for  future  carving  might  have  been  put  in  place,  but  left 
rough.  The  tower  and  porches  might  easily  have  been  left 
until  some  future  time.  Reredos  and  choir  screen,  carved  stalls 
and  statues,  could  all  have  been  temporarily  omitted,  and  the 
church,  bare  and  awkward,  if  you  like,  would  yet  have  been  per- 

49 


CHURCH      BUILDING 


manent  and  honorable,  and  right  as  far  as  it  went.  There 
would  have  been  an  incentive  to  further  effort  on  the  part  of 
the  congregation ;  there  would  have  been  the  certainty  that  the 
structure  was  permanent,  and  so  men  would  be  encouraged  to 
add  some  bit  of  carving,  some  statue,  some  window ;  above  all, 


g^- 


Austin  &  Paley,  Architects. 
XXXII.    ST.  HELEN'S,  LANCASHIRE. 


there  would  be  a  building  with  history  and  with  constantly 
growing  associations.  It  would  have  been  a  living  thing,  a  mon- 
ument growing  and  developing  from  year  to  year,  becoming 
ever  more  glorious  and  more  beautiful. 

Granted  the  true,  historic,  and  living  style,  and  an  architect 
with  ability  to  work  seriously  therein,  the  result  would  still  be 
inadequate  and  even  wrong  if  the  church  were  not  designed 

50 


THE     VILLAGE      CHURCH 

after  this  fashion,  as  a  thing  that  should  grow  from  year  to 
year,  never  quite  perfect,  never  finished. 

In  using  the  word  "  village  "  to  describe  the  particular  kind 
of  church  that  we  are  now  considering,  I  may  have  conveyed 
an  erroneous  impression.  The  word  was  used  rather  in  the 
English  sense  than  in  the  American,  and  the  churches  referred 
to  are  such  as  would  be  built  in  what,  in  this  country,  we  call 
small  cities ;  that  is,  those  under  a  hundred  thousand  popula- 
tion. Between  churches  of  this  kind  and  those  that  would  be 
built  in  a  large  and  crowded  city  there  is  a  distinct  difference. 
In  the  former  instance  a  more  spacious  site  is  easily  available. 
The  houses  are  not  built  in  blocks,  and  are  not  apt  to  crowd 
up  around  the  church,  as  in  large  cities.  Moreover,  a  certain 
formality,  elaboration,  and  refinement  of  detail  are  desirable  in 
large  city  churches;  while  in  those  we  are  now  considering 
there  may  be  something  of  greater  simplicity. 

Let  us  consider  one  or  two  practical  points.  In  plan  the 
church  must  be  long  and  narrow,  not  only  on  account  of 
acoustics,  but  for  emotional  and  artistic  effect  as  well.  In  the 
case  of  a  village  church,  much  greater  height  is  necessary  than 
in  a  country  chapel ;  for  the  low  church  with  spreading  roofs  is 
admirable  only  in  rude  country  districts.  The  walls  of  the  nave 
should  never  be  less  than  the  width  between  the  columns,  and 
should  indeed  be  a  little  more.  The  choir  and  sanctuary  must 
be  deep,  if  possible  twice  their  width.  The  sanctuary  cannot  be 
less  than  twelve  feet  from  east  wall  to  communion  rail,  where 
the  foot-pace  of  the  altar  is  raised  three  steps  above  the  sacra- 
rium  floor.  The  depth  of  the  choir  is  dependent  on  the 
number  of  choristers.  In  addition  to  the  length  required  by 
the  choir  stalls,  ten  feet  is  necessary  to  provide  for  the  alleys 
at  either  end  of  the  stalls,  the  kneeling  space  in  front  of  the 
communion  rail,  and  the  three  steps  to  this  level  from  the  choir 

51 


CHURCH      BUILDING 


pavement.  Each  row  of  stalls  should  be  raised  a  step  at  least 
above  the  one  in  front.  The  chances  are  that  in  any  church  of 
this  size  provision  for  a  vested  choir  must  be  made,  and  very 
likely  for  an  auxiliary  choir  of  women  as  well.  Where  the 
latter  is  necessary,  by  far  the  most  dignified  and  ecclesiastical 


XXXIII.    STRATFORD  CHURCH. 


method  is  to  provide  a  kind  of  "nuns'  gallery"  on  one  side  of 
the  choir  and  looking  down  into  it.  This  is  perfectly  satisfac- 
tory from  a  musical  standpoint.  It  gives  a  chance  for  a  fine 
architectural  effect,  and  it  also  solves  the  vexed  question  of  the 
manner  of  vesting  female  choristers. 

The  plan  of  the  body  of  the  church  will  almost    inevitably 
be  the  old  fashion  of  a  central  nave,  long,  narrow,  and  high,  with 

52 


THE     VILLAGE      CHURCH 

low  and  still  narrower  aisles  on  either  side.  As  I  have  said 
before,  the  cruciform  plan  demands  a  central  tower,  since  it  is 
impossible  to  treat  open,  intersecting  roofs  in  any  good  archi- 
tectural fashion.  Such  a  tower  is  very  expensive,  and  so  it  is 
usually  out  of  the  question.  Where  the  church  is  cruciform 
without  aisles,  the  cost  is  not  very  great ;  but  this  scheme  is  not 
a  very  safe  one  in  so  small  a  building.  It  is  apt  to  diminish  the 
effect  of  size  both  outwardly  and  inwardly.  The  three-aisled 
plan-  is  by  far  the  best,  and  may  even  be  considered  the 
classical  type.  It  may  be  varied  almost  infinitely.  The  aisles 
may  be  wide  and  low  and  filled  with  pews,  or  they  may  be  high 
and  narrow  and  used  only  as  ambulatories.  This  latter  mode 
gives  a  certain  formality  and  stateliness  that  seem  more  conso- 
nant with  the  city  church  than  with  the  type  we  are  consider- 
ing. In  All  Saints',  Dorchester  (Figures  XXIV.  and  XXV.),  the 
aisles  are  narrow  and  low,  the  clerestory  being  very  high  and 
containing  the  chief  range  of  windows,  those  in  the  ambula- 
tories being  very  small  and  filled  with  dark  glass.  Where 
there  is  an  insuperable  prejudice  against  seats  behind  columns, 
this  scheme  can  be  followed ;  for  it  gives  the  requisite  shadow 
behind  the  arcades  and  yet  leaves  all  the  seats  in  the  open. 

This  prejudice  against  columns  that  cut  off  a  direct  view  of 
the  altar  or  pulpit  from  a  few  seats  in  the  side  aisles  does  not 
seem  to  be  one  which  is  based  on  reason.  Not  only  does  the 
omission  of  these  arcades  of  columns  and  arches  militate 
very  seriously  against  the  dignity  and  impressiveness  of  a 
church  interior,  it  also  is  almost  certain,  particularly  in  the  case 
of  large  churches,  to  destroy  all  sense  of  just  proportion. 
Where  great  length  is  obtainable  and  the  number  of  seats  is 
not  excessive,  accommodation  may  be  provided  within  the 
lines  of  the  columns,  as  in  the  case  of  All  Saints',  Dorchester; 
but  it  is  almost  impossible  to  increase  the  width  of  the  central 

53 


XXXIV.     CHURCH  AT  SONNING. 


XXXV.     CHURCH  AT  CHILHAM,  KENT. 


THE     VILLAGE      CHURCH 

nave  beyond  the  limit  of  thirty-five  feet  without  enormously 
increasing  the  cost  of  the  church  or  else  quite  destroying  the 
effect  of  proportion.  Where  a  long  nave  is  not  possible  and  five 
hundred  seats  or  more  are  required,  there  is  no  way  of  providing 
for  this  except  by  placing  them  in  side  aisles.  Of  course,  this 
results,  as  I  have  said  before,  in  cutting  off  direct  view  of  the 
altar  from  a  few  seats ;  but  this  is  by  no  means  fatal.  There 
are  plenty  of  seats,  with  a  direct  view,  in  the  nave  itself;  and 
those  in  the  aisles  which  have  not  this  are  few  in  number. 
The  prejudice  is  rapidly  dying  out.  It  is  an  heritage  from 
Puritan  times,  and  one  which  is  not  destined  to  endure.  A 
little  reasoning  will  show  that  it  is  absurd  to  sacrifice  every 
question  of  dignity  and  proportion  for  the  sake  of  what  is 
in  reality  only  a  prejudice. 

Not  only  are  side  chapels  almost  indispensable  conveniences 
in  churches  of  any  size,  they  are  also  the  source  of  most  beau- 
tiful effects  of  light  and  shade,  and  give  the  "  opening  out " 
effect  at  the  east  end  of  the  church  that  is  so  desirable.  One 
chapel  is  usually  all  that  is  necessary  in  village  churches ;  and 
this  should  be  in  the  most  accessible  portion,  with  an 
independent  entrance  or  else  opening  out  of  the  side  porch. 
Oftentimes  this  side  chapel  can  be  so  arranged  that  in  winter 
it  can  be  shut  off  from  the  church  by  traceried  screens  filled  in 
with  glass.  This  makes  it  possible,  on  occasion,  to  heat  the 
chapel  alone,  which  is  sometimes  a  distinct  convenience ;  yet, 
when  the  full  seating  capacity  of  the  church  is  demanded,  the 
screens  can  be  opened  or  moved  back.  Usually  it  is  well  to 
have  the  morning  chapel  on  the  same  side  as  the  sacristy,  in 
order  that  both  the  high  altar  and  the  side  altar  may  be  served 
from  the  same  place.  In  the  "typical  plan  "  that  I  have  shown, 
the  chapel  is  arranged  after  this  system.  This  is  a  particularly 
good  place  for  a  memorial  tomb,  if  there  should  be  demand  for 
such. 

55 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

There  are,  of  course,  a  great  number  of  technical  points 
that  I  might  refer  to  in  connection  with  the  details  of  an  ideal 
church :  the  size  and  contours  of  the  piers  with  their  spacing ; 
the  nature  of  the  arches  (that  is,  whether  they  should  be  two, 
three,  or  four  centred,  and  whether  they  should  be  sharp  and 
pointed    or   wide    and    low) ;    the    size    of   the   windows ;    the 


XXXVI.     PARISH   CHURCH,  WATERLOO. 


Paley  &  Austin,  Architects. 


design  of  tracery, —  indeed,  all  the  many  points  that  must  be 
carefully  considered  by  any  conscientious  architect.  These 
are,  however,  as  I  have  said,  technical  considerations;  and, 
since  the  object  of  this  essay  is  not  to  lay  down  rules  whereby 
any  architect  or  layman  may  design  a  church  to  suit  himself, 
but  rather  to  indicate  the  general  principles  which  govern 
church  building,  it  is  unnecessary  to  refer  to  this  here. 

56 


THE     VILLAGE      CHURCH 

The  things  most  carefully  to  be  avoided  in  planning  are 
precisely  those  that  are  modern  innovations.  Not  because 
modern  fashions  cannot  be  good,  but  because  in  church  archi- 
tecture they  do  not  happen  to  be  so.  The  mediaeval  builders 
worked  at  their  problems  just  as  did  the  Greeks;  and,  like  them, 
they  succeeded  in  finding  exactly  the  right  way  to  do  things. 
But  they  had  what  the  Greeks  had  not,  and  that  was  the 
inspiration  of  Christianity.  Therefore,  the  style  they  cre- 
ated was  far  more  mobile,  personal,  variable.  It  gave  an  almost 
unbounded  field  to  the  imagination,  it  permitted  infinite  variety 
in  detail;  but  back  of  all  this  liberty  were  the  fundamental 
laws  of  proportion  and  of  composition.  When  we  began  to 
return  to  Gothic  as  the  one  ecclesiastical  style,  we  quite  ignored 
these  essentials,  and  tried  to  amuse  ourselves  with  details 
alone.  Hence  the  errors  that  have  been  made,  and  that  persist 
vigorously  even  now. 

One  of  the  worst  of  these  errors  is  the  stubby,  cruciform 
plan  without  columns  and  with  low  side  walls,  a  steep  roof  sup- 
ported on  heavy  trusses,  and  a  polygonal  chancel.  On  these 
lines  good  or  even  tolerable  results  are  absolutely  impossible. 
An  architect  who  would  follow  them  is  just  as  criminal  as  one 
who  would  change  the  proportions  of  a  Greek  temple.  This 
unpardonable  corruption  owes  its  existence  in  a  large  measure 
to  the  persistence  of  the  old  Puritan  meeting-house  prejudice 
against  columns  or  piers  or  any  architectural  feature  that  would 
differentiate  the  structure  from  a  lecture  hall.  The  fancied 
necessity  of  getting  rid  of  all  obstacles  to  direct  vision,  together 
with  the  very  absurd  theory  that  a  square  plan  rather  than  a 
long  one  gives  the  best  acoustics,  is  responsible  for  the  shape- 
less and  ignorant  edifice  that  has  usurped  the  place  of  the  really 
Gothic,  Christian,  and  Catholic  church. 

What,  then,  is  the  scheme  of  a  typical  village  church  ?     To 

57 


XXXVII.     PLAN  OF  ST.  MARY'S  CHURCH. 


Micklethwaite  &  Clarke,  Architects. 
XXXVIII.     ST.  MARY'S,  STRETTON-CUM-WETMORE. 


THE     VILLAGE      CHURCH 

me  it  seems  something  like  this :  The  main  lines  are  those  laid 
down  by  centuries  of  precedent.  At  the  west  end  is  the  tower 
and  main  entrance ;  the  body  of  the  church  is  laid  out  on  the 
simplest  lines  ;  a  nave  24  to  27  feet  wide  and  75  to  90  feet  long 
is  separated  from  the  aisles  13  to  15  feet  w^ide  by  arcades  of 
arches  supported  on  stone  shafts  1 5  feet  on  centres.  For  its 
architectural  effect  the  body  of  the  church  depends  on  perfect 
simplicity,  on  the  shadow  in  the  roofs,  and  on  the  play  of  light 
and  shade  from  the  large  windows  in  the  aisles  and  the  small 
ones  in  the  clerestory,  and  the  many  shafts  with  their  curving 
arches.  As  one  approaches  the  chancel,  however,  the  building 
begins  to  expand  and  reveal  effects  of  distance,  of  width,  of 
profound  shadow  and  sudden  lights.  The  main  lines  of  the 
nave,  of  course,  continue  straight  to  the  altar,  broken  only  by 
the  chancel  arch  and  the  screen  or  rood  beam  ;  but  outside  these 
main  lines,  that  seem  to  give  strength  and  simplicity,  all  is  va- 
riety and  elaboration.  On  the  north  the  aisle  opens  out  into 
the  deeper  shadow  of  the  baptistery ;  on  the  south  the  morning 
chapel  affords  the  requisite  distance ;  yet  the  aisles  themselves 
narrow  on  either  side  of  the  choir  into  low  and  comparatively 
dark  ambulatories,  that  give  through  the  arches  of  the  choir, 
half  filled  with  traceried  screens,  the  shadow  necessary  to  em- 
phasize the  brightness  of  the  choir  and  sanctuary. 

A  good  Gothic  church  must  begin  in  simplicity  at  the  west- 
ern entrance  and  then  develop  in  two  ways  simultaneously  as  it 
reaches  the  choir:  it  must  draw  in,  concentrate,  until  it  con- 
verges on  the  high  altar ;  and  it  must  open  out,  expand,  reveal 
vistas  into  chapels,  ambulatories,  aisles.  It  is  hard  to  describe 
just  w^hat  is  meant,  and  it  is  impossible  to  explain  why  it  should 
be  necessary,  why  it  should  be  an  essential  part  of  the  Gothic 
idea ;  but  it  is,  as  witness  almost  all  churches  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  for  a  contrast  those  so  numerous  ones  of  modern 

59 


CHURCH      BUILDING 


times  where  the  principles  are  forgotten,  and  hard  walls  and  no 
vistas  whatever  make  erudition  worse  than  useless.  Westmin- 
ster Abbey  is  a  good  example  of  the  ideal  type,  or  must  have 
been  so  until  it  was  turned  into  an  exhibition  of  inferior  mortu- 
ary sculpture.  St.  Mark's  in  Venice,  though  not  Gothic  at  all, 
is  quite  as  good  an  illustration.     Trinity  church  in  Boston  will 


Paley  &  Austin,  Architects. 
XXXIX.    ST.  MARY'S,  DALTON-IN-FURNESS.  ^ 

serve  to  show  what  is  the  result  of  abandoning  a  firmly  estab- 
lished law. 

In  the  "  Typical  Plan  "  the  object  is  to  obtain  the  utmost 
richness  of  effect,  of  varying  light  and  shade,  of  space  and  dis- 
tance, of  ultimate  mystery,  if  you  like,  without  unnecessary  ex- 
pense. I  do  not  mean  by  this  phrase  that  there  should  be  any 
parsimoniousness,  any  meanness  in  building,  but  that  there 
should  be  neither  wasteful  size  nor  unnecessary  adjuncts.  It  is 
such  a  church  as  should  be  built  by  a  parish  of  perhaps  two 
hundred  communicants.  To  build  it  rightly  and  all  at  once 
would  cost,  of  course,  a  very  large  sum ;  but  to  build  the  chan- 

60 


THE     VILLAGE      CHURCH 

eel,  sacristies,  and  four  bays  of  the  nave,  leaving  out  all  the 
carving  and  ornamentation  for  a  time,  and  letting  the  rest  of 
the  nave,  the  tower,  chapel,  and  baptistery,  remain  for  future 
years,  would  cost  no  more  than  is  spent  on  many  churches  of 
equal  accommodation,  but  finished  with  tower  and  everything 
else  complete.  Of  course,  in  such  a  church  as  this,  floor  and 
walls  should  be  of  dressed  stone.  Stone  vaulting  is  practically 
out  of  the  question,  except  for  towers,  porches,  and  small 
chapels.  To  vault  a  nave  with  stone  means  not  only  immense 
cost,  but  an  elaborate  system  of  flying  buttresses ;  and  these  are 
too  ambitious  for  anything  except  cathedrals  or  very  large  city 
churches.  I  need  hardly  say  that  vaults  of  lath  and  plaster,  or 
of  steel  construction,  are  utterly  and  forever  impossible  to  an 
honest  architect  or  a  God-fearing  congregation.  The  vault  is 
not  an  essential  part  of  Gothic  architecture,  though  pedants  and 
archaeologists  have  said  so.  A  fine  roof  of  simple  open  beams 
supported  on  carved  stone  corbels  is  infinitely  better  for  such  a 
church  as  we  are  considering  than  a  stone  vault,  even  were  this 
possible  from  a  financial  standpoint. 

In  designing  a  village  church,  the  architect  has  a  problem 
before  him  that  admits  of  no  rival :  the  opportunity  is  incom- 
parable. In  the  country  chapel  the  limitations  of  cost  prevent 
any  richness  or  elaboration  or  the  working  out  of  any  good 
ideas.  In  the  city  church  the  limitations  of  land  are  equally 
hampering,  though  in  a  different  way.  The  village  church  con- 
ceived as  a  monument  to  endure  for  ages  and  to  develop  year 
by  year,  the  cost  being  limited  only  for  the  moment,  becomes 
almost  the  noblest  problem  that  offers.  It  stands  midway  be- 
tween the  country  chapel,  verging  in  its  design  and  materials 
on  roughness,  and  the  city  church,  with  its  necessary  formality 
and  stateliness.  Absolutely  simple  in  conception,  it  must  be 
reserved  and  powerful  in  its  composition,  classical  in  its  propor- 

6i 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

tions.  But,  these  qualities  once  attained,  it  may  blossom  into 
almost  unrestricted  richness  of  detail  and  ornamentation.  The 
popular  modern  church  that  tries  to  be  effective  through  a  mul- 
tiplicity of  parts  is  merely  foolish,  though  the  church  is  free  to 
cover  itself  with  splendor  as  with  a  garment. 

For  the  materials  of  the  exterior,  while  there  is  a  little  more 
license  than  in  the  case  of  city  churches,  there  is  less  than  in- 
the  country  chapel.  "  Field  "  or  "  quarry  "  stone,  if  it  has  an 
even  surface  and  good  color,  can  be  used ;  and  "  seam-faced  " 
granite  is  always  good,  not  only  because  of  the  surface,  but  for 
its  extraordinary  beautiful  color.  "  Rock-faced  "  sandstone, 
"  cobble-stones,"  boulders,  or  split  granite,  are  out  of  the  question. 
For  very  formal  and  refined  work,  dressed  sandstone  or  lime- 
stone is  necessary ;  and  these  materials  should  always  be  used 
for  carved  work  and  trimmings.  Brick, —  red  brick,  that  is, — 
with  plenty  of  stone  worked  in  for  quoins,  string  courses,  and 
trimmings,  is  used  admirably  in  England,  but  badly  in  this 
country,  though  there  is  no  possible  reason  why  this  latter 
condition  should  exist.  Whether  brick  can  be  used  success- 
fully for  interior  work  is  still  a  question.  For  roofing,  copper 
is  about  the  only  good  covering:  slate  is  too  hard  and  cold, 
while  tiles  are  out  of  keeping,  and  many  kinds  are  of  very 
doubtful  durability. 

A  matter  of  the  utmost  moment  in  the  case  of  village 
churches  is  that  of  their  surroundings.  Too  often  questions  of 
temporary  or  fancied  convenience  mar  what  might  otherwise 
be  a  most  noble  structure.  It  should  not  be  forgotten  that  the 
village  church  is  in  a  way  a  more  vital  part  of  the  life  of  the 
people  than  a  city  church.  It  should  afford  them  the  blessings 
of  art  and  beauty  that  otherwise  in  our  peculiar  civilization 
may  be  quite  absent  from  their  lives.  Not  only  should  the 
church  itself  be  without  and  within  a  combination  of  all  pos- 

62 


XL.    TYPICAL   PLAN. 


THE     VILLAGE      CHURCH 

sible  beautiful  things,  it  should  also,  from  its  very  location  and 
surroundings,  be  a  constant  inspiration.  Land  is  not  fabu- 
lously valuable  in  villages,  and  there  should  be  enough  of  this. 
The  ideal  scheme  is  that  of  a  great  and  beautiful  church  in  its 
own  churchyard,  surrounded  by  the  tombs  and  graves  of  its 
own  people ;  but,  even  if  this  is  impossible,  there  should  at  least 
be  ample  land  with  trees  and  shady  paths,  so  that  the  church 
may  stand  withdrawn  a  little  from  the  streets  and  the  secular 
life  around.  For  the  meeting-houses  of  the  denominations 
that  are  used  once  or  at  most  twice  during  the  week,  this  is  not 
necessary ;  but  for  a  church  that  should  be  a  part  of  the  daily 
life  of  its  people  it  is  most  important. 

It  cannot  be  too  constantly  held  in  mind,  it  cannot  be  too 
steadily  reiterated,  that  a  village  church  is  in  its  nature  a 
matter  of  paramount  importance,  not  only  from  an  architect- 
ural standpoint,  but  from  that  of  civilization.  It  is  not  the 
Sunday  club  of  a  certain  organization :  it  is,  or  should  be,  the 
concentration  of  the  life  of  the  people,  the  greatest  influence 
that  is  brought  to  bear  upon  them.  As  it  was  in  the  past,  so 
it  should  be  now.  The  village  church  should  be  the  spiritual, 
ethical,  and  artistic  inspiration  of  the  people.  If  it  fails  in  any 
of  these  directions,  it  is  inadequate.  If  it  succeeds  in  all  of 
them,  then  it  is  triumphant.  Let  us,  then,  make  our  village 
churches  what  they  once  were  centuries  ago, —  monuments  of 
the  devotion  of  the  people,  and,  as  well,  a  supreme  agency  satis- 
fying all  their  infinite  desires  for  beauty  of  every  kind. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  study  very  carefully  the  ancient  Eng- 
lish churches  I  have  used  to  illustrate  this  and  the  preceding 
chapter,  to  see  how  perfectly  they  fulfil  this  requirement.  A 
single  glance  at  St.  Cuthbert's,  Wells  (Figure  XVII.),  Harber- 
ton  (Figure  XVIIL),  St.  Mary's,  Herts  (Figure  XXVIL),  St. 
John's,  Coventry,   Stratford,   Sonning,  and   Chilham   (Figures 

65 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

XX.,  XXXIII.,  XXXIV.,  and  XXXV.),  will  show  how  inti- 
mately they  are  of  the  people,  how  redolent  of  the  soil,  how 
deeply  religious,  yet  how  personal,  simple,  and,  as  it  were,  irre- 
sistible. Those  that  built  them  loved  every  stone  that  came 
consecrated  to  God  from  under  their  hands.  They  are  as 
much  a  part  of  England  as  her  trees,  her  birds,  her  denizens  of 
the  moor  and  forest,  her  people.  These  are  but  one  or  two  of 
an  innumerable  list,  and  each  is  a  lasting  memorial  of  nameless 
yet  honored  dead.  Consider  the  little  church  at  Chilham. 
It  lies  in  the  midst  of  its  green  wolds  as  unconscious  of  its  per- 
fect beauty  as  were  the  masons  who  reared  its  walls ;  yet  in  every 
line  it  is  almost  faultless,  and  it  shows  forth  not  alone  the  right 
instinct  for  beauty  that  marked  the  men  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
and  that  is  the  rightful  heritage  of  all  men,  but  also  the 
simple,  honest,  manly  reverence  and  devotion  that  are  an  equal 
heritage.  Contrast  this  of  ten  thousand  others  equally  good 
with  Figures  I.,  II.,  XI.,  and  XXXI.  of  ten  thousand  others 
equally  bad,  and  then  say,  if  you  can,  that  we  are  erecting  just 
monuments  of  a  civilization  that  we  loudly  protest  is  at  least 
equal  with  that  of  the  past. 

Bad  as  these  new  churches  are,  we  are  not  without  some 
consolation  in  the  shape  of  work,  mostly  as  yet  in  England, 
that  is  not  unworthy  to  stand  with  that  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury. In  Hoarcross  and  Stockport  (Figures  XIX.  and 
XXVIII.)  and  in  nearly  all  the  work  of  those  English  archi- 
tects I  have  named  in  the  introductory  chapter,  we  find  both 
the  old  impulse  and  the  old  results.  Hoarcross  and  Stockport 
are  crystalline  in  their  delicate  perfection.  Study  them  care- 
fully, and  you  shall  see  what  constitutes  right  church  building. 
In  each  of  them,  as  seems  to  be  inevitable  in  all  contemporary 
work,  there  is  something  of  self-consciousness,  of  the  striving 
for  perfection ;  but  attribute  no  blame  for  this  to  the  architects. 

66 


THE     VILLAGE      CHURCH 

The  cause  lies  in  the  spirit  of  the  epoch,  and  no  one  man  shall 
escape  it. 

And,  if  we  fail  of  the  ancient  naivete  and  unconsciousness, 
as  for  a  time  we  must,  we  have  yet,  as  in  those  two  churches,  a 
certain  unity,  a  certain  "  passion  for  perfection  "  that  has  the 
most  noble  results  ;  and  for  this  we  must  be  grateful  forever. 


67 


THE    CITY  CHURCH 


If  in  what  I  have  called  the  village  church  ecclesiastical 
architecture  finds  its  opportunity  for  the  highest  expression, — 
short  of  the  cathedral,  its  highest,  since  it  is  less  modified  and 
hampered    by   circumstance, —  certainly  in  the   city  church  it 


XLI.    ALL  SAINTS',  BROOKLINE,  MASS. 

obtains  its  fullest  chance  of  showing  its  adaptability  to  condi- 
tions essentially  modern  and  almost  without  precedent.  It  is 
here  that  Christian  architecture  is  privileged  to  prove  its  ex- 
treme adaptability,  its  vitality^  its  power  of  fitting  itself  to  new 
conditions  without  losing  any  of  its  historic  and  spiritual 
qualities. 

In  the  great  periods  of  church  building  in  the  past  the  city 
was  but  an  exaggerated  village,  so  far  as  its  physical  aspect 

69 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

was  concerned.  The  streets  were  irregular  and  winding,  land 
was  not  cursed  with  the  incubus  of  an  artificial  valuation,  the 
houses  and  shops  were  low,  varied  in  style,  and  not  sequent 


^■<k•••!•■:■*;■"^•'^^'^*;•k•■•|•••H>'.-•■i  ;■;>*/■ 


XLII.    ALL  SAINTS',  BROOKLINE,  MASS. 


in  unbroken  blocks,  trees  and  gardens  and  orchards  broke  the 
monotony  of  buildings,  and  in  every  way  extent  was  about  the 
only  quality  that  differentiated  the  city  from  the  village. 

As  a  result,  the  churches  of  a  city,  particularly  in  England, 
differed   in    no    radical   particular   from    the  churches    of   the 


70 


THE      CITY     CHURCH 

country.  Indeed,  many  of  them  were  but  suburban  foundations 
overtaken  and  surrounded  by  the  marching  town  ;  and,  however 
much  they  might  be  rebuilt  and  restored,  the  primal  character- 
istic remained,  and  the  church  still  stood  in  its  ample  yard,  low, 
gentle,  and  reserved,  yet  sufficiently  dominant  in  an  architectu- 
ral way.  Now,  of  course,  all  this  is  changed.  The  modern  city 
is  a  thing  unheard  of  before ;  and  with  its  straight,  uninterest- 
ing streets,  its  towering  structures,  its  dull  blocks  of  houses 
and  shops,  demands  quite  other  methods  of  design  where 
religious  edifices  are  concerned. 

Yet  how  persistently  the  greater  number  of  architects  refuse 
to  recognize  this,  and  continue  dully  to  design  churches  that 
might  perhaps  be  acceptable  in  towns  and  villages,  but  become 
insignificant  and  without  architectural  value  in  a  great  city ! 
Well  designed  they  may  be  in  themselves,  but  this  is  not  all  of 
architecture.  A  building,  to  be  good,  must  not  be  puffed  up 
with  insolent  individualism :  it  must  recognize  the  fact  that  it  is 
only  a  part  of  a  great  whole,  and  that  it  has  duties  in  addition 
to  those  it  owes  itself.  It  must  adapt  itself  to  new  conditions, 
conform  in  a  measure  to  its  environment,  and,  if  the  latter  is 
unprecedented,  so  must  it  be  also.  Yet  this  is  almost  unrecog- 
nized by  the  majority  of  architects ;  and,  as  a  consequence,  we 
find  churches  with  low  walls,  many  little  features,  slender  spires, 
and  all  the  other  accessories  of  country  design,  set  down  in  the 
immediate  proximity  of  blocks  of  dwellings  or  mercantile  build- 
ings that  lift  absurdly  above  them,  crushing  them  into  ignominy, 
making  towers  that  do  not  rise  above  the  neighboring  cornices 
grotesque  and  laughable. 

But  in  England,  whence  come  all  right  impulses  in  the 
revived  architecture  of  Christianity,  this  blunder  has  been 
noted ;  and  already  the  line  of  reform  has  been  indicated.  I 
have  illustrated  several  of  the  notable  designs,  and  shall  refer  to 


CHURCH      BUILDING 


XLIII.     IN   THE  CLOISTER,   ALL   SAINTS'. 

them  later.  In  the  mean  time  let  us  consider  the  architecture 
of  city  churches  apart  from  this  most  important  question  of 
adaptability  to  environment. 

Of  course,  in  all  fundamental  particulars  church  building  in 
the  city  is  identical  with  church  building  in  the  country.  The 
same  laws  as  to  style  hold  good,  the  same  principles  of  plan- 

72 


THE      CITY     CHURCH 

ning  and  composition.  The  necessary  modifications  are  only 
such  as  would  be  suggested  by  the  now  necessary  economy  of 
space,  by  compulsory  concentration.  In  certain  respects  de- 
tail and  design  must  be  modified  ;  for  the  city  church,  with  the 
cathedral,  is  the  culmination  of  the  development  in  richness 
and  refinement  from  the  beginning  in  the  country  chapel. 
Here  any  suspicion  of  rudeness  is  out  of  the  question,  pictur- 
esque effects  are  futile  :  the  material  must  be  refined  and  deli- 
cate, rough  stone  is  barred  and  in  its  place  must  come  stone 
that  has  a  smooth  and  well-dressed  surface,  or  brick,  if  it  is 
used  properly.  Ornamentation  must  be  finely  cut  and  care- 
fully placed :  everything  must  be  refined,  reserved,  even  formal. 
It  also  seems  right  that  the  last  vestige  of  domesticity, —  if  I 
may  call  it  so, —  of  homeliness,  if  you  like,  should  be  done  away 
with,  that  the  church  may  take  on  the  qualities  of  power, 
formality,  even  of  grandeur,  that  fit  it  for  its  new  position. 
The  design  appropriate  for  a  grove-shaded  cottage  in  the  open 
country  would  be  monstrous  on  a  metropolitan  boulevard,  and 
the  same  is  true  of  a  church.  Cottage  or  palace,  the  home  is 
still  there ;  and,  hillside  sanctuary  or  looming  minster,  it  is  still 
the  church  of  God.  In  each  case  adaptation  to  conditions  has 
been  necessary  only. 

It  is  true  that  in  a  city  there  must  be  two  kinds  of  church 
building,  that  for  the  outskirts  where  land  still  has  something 
of  its  intrinsic  value  and  where  as  yet  the  surrounding  build- 
ings are  comparatively  low  and  scattered,  where  the  streets  are 
wide  and  there  are  good  trees,  and  that  for  the  already 
crowded  sections  where  land  in  quantity  is  not  available  and 
where  blocks  perhaps  eighty  or  a  hundred  feet  high  strive  to 
crush  every  non-commercial  structure  in  their  vicinity ;  but  in 
the  former  instance  the  logical  design  is  simply  that  of  the  vil- 
lage church,  refined  and  elaborated  in  material  and  design,  as 

73 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

I  have  said,  and  conceived  with  a  view  to  the  almost  inevitable 
future,  when  tall  buildings  will  try  to  annihilate  its  dignity  and 
effect.  In  the  second  instance,  where  a  church  must  be  built 
in  a  busy  quarter  on  land  of  great  value,  a  new  set  of  conditions 


XLIV. 


must  be  confronted.  In  Figures  XLI.,  XLII.,  and  XLIII.,  I 
have  shown  the  plan  and  two  exterior  views  of  a  church  now 
being  erected  under  the  more  conventional  conditions.  Suffi- 
cient land  is  available,  and  the  surrounding  houses  are  low  and  in- 
offensive blocks  of  dwellings.  For  many  years  the  church  must 
dominate  the  whole  section,  yet  ultimately  it  must  find  itself  in 
juxtaposition  to  lofty  structures.    Therefore,  since  it  is  to  stand 

74 


THE      CITY     CHURCH 

for  centuries,  it  must  provide  against  this  contingency.    Hence 
it  is  very  lofty  in  its  main  walls,  which  rise  some  sixty  feet 


XLV.    A  CHURCH   DWARFED   BY  ITS   SURROUNDINGS. 

above  the  street ;  and  its  tower  lifts  to  the  imposing  height  of 
one  hundred  and  seventy-five  feet.  Its  masses  are  all  simple, 
its  parts  few.  It  is  calculated  by  its  very  simplicity  to  hold  its 
own  against  all  comers.  The  plan  is  one  that  offers  a  solution 
of   the   vexed   question  of   seats   in  aisles ;  at   the   west   end, 

75 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

where  such  seats  would,  by  reason  of  the  size  of  the  columns, 
be  almost  wholly  cut  off  from  any  view  of  the  chancel,  the 
aisles  are  only  narrow  ambulatories,  which,  nevertheless,  give 
the  requisite  variety  and  shadow,  while  near  the  chancel  they 


Henry  Vaughn,  Architect. 
XLVI.    CHRIST  CHURCH,  NEW  HAVEN,  CONN. 


widen  out  into  chapels,  almost  every  seat  in  which  has  a 
view  of  the  altar.  This  arrangement  obviates  the  necessity  of 
genuine  transepts,  which,  as  I  have  said  before,  are  not  very 
successful  in  any  church  lacking  the  proportions  of  a  cathedral. 
The  arrangement  of  the  parish  building  and  rectory  around 
a  cloister  is  a  scheme  the  virtue  of  which   will  be   apparent 

76 


THE      CITY     CHURCH 

when  the  whole  section  is  solidly  built  up :  then  the  green  and 
quiet  court-yard,  with  its  traceried  cloisters,  and  its  gabled  roofs 
and  mullioned  oriels  lifting  above,  will  be  very  grateful  and  a 
soothing  relief  from  the  dull  and  dusty  street.  In  Figure  XLVI. 
is  shown  another  church  worked  out  on  lines  that  are  absolutely 
right.  There  is  the  loftiness  of  the  walls  and  the  perfect  sim- 
plicity of  parts  that  must  always  mark  any  city  church  that  is 
conceived  with  due  regard  to  its  environment.  Moreover,  it 
has  that  singular  refinement,  that  courtly  self-respect,  that  seem 
indispensable.  It  could  not  be  taken  for  a  country  church;  yet 
it  is  pure  and  scholarly  Gothic,  both  modern  in  feeling  and 
mediaeval, —  the  enduring  style  adapted  to  new  conditions. 

Figures  XLI V.  and  XLV.  are  examples  of  city  churches  that 
have  been  designed  with  scant  reference  to  their  surroundings, 
and  therefore  fail  completely.  I  do  not  refer  to  the  merits  of 
their  respective  designs,  but  only  to  their  adaptability  to  envi- 
ronment. Both  are  insignificant,  and  some  day  will  seem  more 
so,  just  because  they  were  designed  as  if  they  were  to  stand  in 
open  country.  Notice  the  crushed  and  apologetic  air  they  both 
display,  with  their  low  side  walls,  their  roof  ridges,  and  even 
their  towers,  hardly  rising  to  the  level  of  the  cornices  of  the 
surrounding  blocks.  There  is  no  evident  reason  why  this 
modern  trick  of  cottage  walls  —  bad  even  at  the  best — should 
have  been  adopted.  Due  regard  for  the  unities  of  architecture 
would  have  prompted  lofty  walls  and  powerful  masses.  Instead 
we  have  quite  the  reverse. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  the  other  category  of  city  churches,  that 
of  the  buildings  that  must  from  the  beginning  stand  in  the 
midst  of  surroundings  that  do  their  best  to  be  dominant. 
Where  solid  blocks  crowd  on  every  side,  it  is  nothing  but  folly 
to  hold  by  the  precedents  of  the  past.  The  church  must  be 
the  chief  structure  in  the  group ;  and,  architecturally,  it  must 

77 


CHURCH      BUILDING 


command  its  neighbors.     To  do  this,  its  walls  must  rise  to  the 
highest  possible  elevation :   I  mean  the  walls  of  the  nave  itself. 


,    '  .  Leonard  Stokes,  Architect. 

XLVII.     NEW  CHURCH,  MANCHESTER,  ENG. 

It  does  no  good  to  build  a  low  church,  and  then  try  to  lift  it 
into  dominance  by  means  of  a  towering  spire.  The  result  of 
this  course  is  failure.  The  nave,  the  main  body  of  the  church, 
is  what  tells ;  and  this  must  lift  itself  into  supremacy,  even   if 

.        78 


THE      CITY     CHURCH 


this  is  at  the  expense  of  a  tower.    For,  after  all,  this  latter  feature 
is  not  an  essential.     A  church  may  be  just  as  good  without  it. 


XLVIII.    NEW  CHURCH,  MANCHESTER,  ENG. 

Take,  for  example,  Figures  XLVII.,  XLIX.,  and  LII. 
They  show  designs  calculated  for  their  locations,  lofty,  mas- 
sive, commanding.  The  amenities  of  Gothic  are  done  away 
with,  and  stress  is  laid  on  its  attributes  of  power  and  domina- 
tion.    The  Manchester  church  is  a  particularly  good  example 

79 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

of  the  way  in  which  a  church  may  be  so  designed  as  to  secure 
its    unquestioned    architectural    supremacy    and   yet   be   good 


XLIX.    ST.  STEPHEN'S  CHURCH,  FALL  RIVER,  MASS. 


Gothic.  In  the  interior,  again,  one  feels  the  essential  bigness 
of  the  design  and  of  the  designer.  Every  inch  of  ground 
space  is  made  available ;  yet  there  is  adequate  variety,  shadow, 
composition.     It  is  a  perfect  type  of  city  church. 

In  its  great  simplicity  it  is  also  a  model.  That  a  church  should 
become  as  rich  and  splendid  as  possible  is  true ;  but  oftentimes 

80 


THE      CITY     CHURCH 


this  is  taken  to  justify  what  can  only  be  called  tawdriness,  not 
only  of  decoration,  but  of  design.     There  is  a  certain  school  of 


L.    CHURCH  OF  THE  ASCENSION   (R.  C),  NEW  YORK  CITY. 

ecclesiastical  art  decoration  rife  just  at  present  that,  not  content 
with  overlaying  plain  surfaces  with  the  most  gaudy  and  mere- 
tricious ornament,  strives  to  torture  the  very  architectural  forms 
themselves  into  quite  meaningless  elaboration.  Now  there  is 
no  limit  to  the  richness  that  is  desirable,  if  it  is  honest  and  real, 
if   it  is  in    the  shape  of  goldsmith's  work  and  sculpture  and 


LI.     CHURCH  OF  ST.  MARY  THE  VIRGIN,  NEW  YORK  CITY. 


THE      CITY     CHURCH 

wood-carving  and  tapestry  and  good  stained  glass,  not  in  the 
form  of  gold  leaf  and  lacquered  brass,  papier-mache  and  opales- 
cent glass ;  but  this  richness  must  be  backed  up  by  fine,  solid, 
and  simple  architecture.  The  finer  and  franker  the  lines,  the 
more  reserved  and  powerful  the  parts,  the  greater  the  richness 
of  the  decoration  that  may  be  allowed.  No  amount  of  splen- 
dor could  make  this  church  at  Manchester  weak  or  effeminate. 

In  this  noble  building  one  finds  also  the  spaciousness,  the 
largeness  of  proportion,  that  are  so  essential  in  city  churches. 
By  the  very  nature  of  things  the  ritual  is  more  varied  and 
elaborate  than  in  the  village  church ;  and  it  is  imperative  that  the 
chancels,  and  particularly  the  sanctuaries,  should  be  very  large. 
The  little  huddled  niches  that  still  linger  among  us  are  relics 
of  a  crude  period  and  deserve  to  be  done  away  with.  Breadth, 
depth,  a  wide  space  between  the  fronts  of  the  choir  stalls, 
another  between  the  stalls  and  the  communion  rail,  and 
yet  another  between  the  rail  and  the  lowest  of  the  altar 
steps, —  these  things  are  most  necessary  for  the  conducting  of  a 
dignified  service,  and  one  that  shall  not  be  huddled  and  con- 
fused. 

And  this  spaciousness,  this  largeness  of  design,  applies  as 
well  to  all  other  portions  of  the  church, —  to  the  piers  and  arches 
of  the  arcades,  the  side  chapels  and  other  accessories,  to  the  win- 
dows, the  doors, —  indeed,  to  every  portion  of  the  interior.  And 
the  same  is  true  of  the  external  design.  The  church  that  is 
confused  by  many  turrets  and  gables,  porches,  irregular  roofs, 
and  varied  towers,  is  not  only  bad  in  itself,  but  less  effective  in 
urban  surroundings  than  would  be  the  case,  were  its  masses 
bold,  simple,  and  powerful.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  real  Greek 
feeling  in  an  old  Gothic  church;  and  beneath  all  its  richness  of 
detail  and  splendor  of  sculptured  ornament  there  is  a  great, 
solid  foundation  mass  that  is  instinct  with  power  and  command. 

83 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

It  is  this  that  tells  in  the  case  of  a  church  designed  to  stand  in 
a  great  city,  and  only  such  a  church  is  able  to  assume  its  just 
position  of  supremacy. 

The  church  illustrated  in  Figure  LI.  was  conceived  in  the 
right  spirit.  It  was  given  the  height  and  the  simplicity  of  mass 
that  were  necessary ;  but  most  unfortunately  it  was  built  after  an 


LII.    A   MISSION  CHURCH. 


evil  fashion,  falsely  and  unpardonably,  with  a  frame  of  steel  like 
an  office  building,  supporting  the  sheathing  stone  that  was 
worked  into  the  forms  of  honest  construction.  It  is  therefore 
an  example  of  all  that  should  be  avoided,  when  it  might  quite 
well  have  been  a  marvel  of  ecclesiastical  beauty  and  holiness, 
had  it  but  been  a  piece  of  self-respecting  and  honorable  con- 
struction. 

I  have  spoken  of  this  point  before,  the  prime  necessity  of 

84 


THE      CITY     CHURCH 

rigid  honesty  in  church-building,  where  any  wilful  falsity  ap- 
proaches the  point  of  sacrilege ;  but  it  cannot  be  dwelt  upon 
too  strenuously  in  this  age  of  expedients.  False  construction 
is  simply  a  lie  told  for  reasons  of  penury  or  ostentation. 

There  has  been  altogether  too  much  of  this  sort  of  thing  of 
late.  Imitation  stone  and  mosaic,  make-believe  chimes,  imita- 
tion marble,  and  even  stained  glass,  all  the  tricks  of  trade  are 
quite  bad  enough  in  civil  and  domestic  affairs ;  but,  when  they 
enter  into  the  question  of  church-building  and  ornamentation, 
they  become  unpardonable. 

We  may  study  the  monuments  of  tne  great  past  until  we 
are  surfeited  with  erudition.  We  may  measure  and  sketch  and 
photograph  the  work  of  the  Middle  Ages  until  we  could  almost 
reconstruct  any  given  monument.  We  may  try  to  build  with 
archaeological  exactness,  and  in  this  we  may  succeed;  but  we 
may  as  well  understand  at  once  that,  until  we  realize  that  beauty 
of  whatever  kind  in  any  church  is  put  there  to  the  glory  of  God 
and  not  to  the  admiration  of  the  passers-by.  we  may  study  and 
labor  in  vain. 

If  a  church  is  not  honest, —  honest  in  its  design,  its  con- 
struction, its  decoration, —  it  is  nothing ;  and  any  added  rich- 
ness, if  it  is  the  richness  of  falsity,  is  only  an  added  shame. 

And  not  only  must  a  church  be  honorable  in  its  construc- 
tion, it  must  also  be  good  in  design.  This  sounds  like  a  truism, 
but  it  is  not ;  for,  when  they  are  carefully  considered,  it  will  be 
easily  seen  that  the  vast  majority  of  contemporary  churches  are 
exactly  the  reverse.  I  do  not  speak  now  of  the  question  of 
style,  which  I  shall  consider  when  we  come  to  the  supreme 
glory  of  religious  architecture,  the  cathedral,  but  of  essential 
rightness  in  whatever  fashion  may  be  chosen.  For  there  is  a 
right  and  a  wrong  in  every  style,  and  the  wrong  is  without  ex- 
cuse so  long  as  there  are  those  who  can  do  the  right.     Consider 

8S 


^      ^53MUA«d 


LIII.     TRINITY  CHURCH,  NEW  YORK  CITY. 


THE      CITY     CHURCH 

for  a  moment  Figure  L.  Now  it  would  not  be  fair  to  say  that  the 
wrong  is  always  of  the  violent  type  exhibited  here,  but  it  often 
approaches  it ;  and,  after  all,  when  a  thing  is  once  bad,  it  matters 
little  what  degree  of  badness  it  may  have  achieved.  The  ques- 
tion of  right  and  wrong  is  not  a  matter  of  taste.  The  fact  that 
the  majority  of  a  building  committee  or  the  reputation  of  a 
given  architect  testifies  to  the  excellence  of  his  designs  has 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  case.  There  are  certain  fun- 
damental laws  of  planning,  composition,  proportion,  construc- 
tion, and  design,  that  are  as  old  as  the  art  of  architecture  itself : 
they  are  to  be  found  equally  in  the  Greek  temple,  the  Byzantine 
basilica,  the  Gothic  cathedral.  These  laws  are^  and  by  them  ar- 
chitecture must  be  tested.  If  it  falls  short,  it  is  without  excuse. 
If,  like  Figure  L.,  it  violates  every  one  of  these  laws,  and  if  in 
addition  —  and  again  like  Figure  L. —  it  is  without  a  glimmer 
of  vitality,  of  nationality,  then  it  is  an  insult  to  God.  For  it  is 
not  enough  that  the  construction  should  be  honest  and  of  the 
best.  It  is  necessary  that  the  art  that  makes  the  thing  living 
should  be  of  the  best  also.  "  The  best "  —  that  is  inadequate 
enough ;  but  it  is  the  least  we  can  give  to  the  glory  of  God  and 
the  honor  of  the  Church,  and,  if  we  fail  of  this,  then  we  fail,  in- 
deed. 

Good  architecture,  perfect  art,  are  not  matters  of  pride :  they 
are  not  desirable  because  they  flatter  the  feelings  of  a  certain 
congregation,  but  because  they  show  a  right  impelling  spirit, 
because  they  are  indeed  "  the  outward  and  visible  sign  of  an 
inward  and  spiritual  grace  "  in  that  congregation,  and  because 
in  their  perfection  they  are  the  least  unworthy  of  the  material 
treasures  of  this  life  that  may  be  offered  in  the  worship  of  God. 


87 


THE     CHANCEL    AND     ITS 
FITTINGS 


We  have  now  considered  the  church  in  its  various  estates, 
from  the  country  chapel,  through  the  village  church  to  that  of 
the  modern  city.  Before  passing  to  the  crowning  fabric  of 
Christian  civilization,  the  cathedral,  let  us  take  up  a  little  more 
in  detail  certain  elements  that  go  to  the  making  of  a  typical 
church,  such,  for  example,  as  the  chancel  and  its  furniture,  the , 
altar  and  its  various  appointments  in  the  shape  of  vestments 
and  sacred  vessels,  stained  glass  and  decoration,  and  the  other 
details  that  must  in  themselves  be  right  if  the  church  is  to  be 
worthy  of  its  ancestry  and  of  its  object ;  and,  first  of  all,  let  us 
consider  the  sanctuary  and  chancel,  both  in  point  of  arrange- 
ment and  in  regard  to  the  different  fittings  that  must  be  pro- 
vided, leaving  the  chief  object,  the  excuse  and  reason  for  the 
church  itself, —  the  altar, —  for  a  special  chapter. 

I  need  hardly  say  that  the  chancel  and  sanctuary  are  not 
only  the  most  sacred  portions  of  a  building  consecrated  to  the 
service  of  God,  but  also  almost  the  church,  the  nave  being  but 
an  adjunct  of  more  or  less  size  provided  for  the  shelter  and  the 
convenience  of  worshippers.  The  altar  is  the  nucleus,  the 
heart  of  the  whole  matter,  the  sanctuary  the  space  provided  for 
the  priests  who  minister  at  the  altar,  the  chancel  the  shelter  of 
those  "  ministers,"  whether  clergy  or  choristers,  who  aid  in  sur- 
rounding the  altar  service  with  due  solemnity  and  splendor, 
the  nave  the  area  set  apart  for  those  for  whom  the  service  is 
offered.  Thus  there  is  a  steady  progression  in  sanctity  from 
the  porch  to  the  altar-stone,  and  this  progression  should  be  ex- 
pressed in  the  fabric  and  the  enrichment  of  the  church.     The 

89 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

nave  may,  as  I  have  said,  be  plain  and  formal,  variety  is  not  de- 
sirable and  lavish  decoration  out  of  place,  but  with  the  choir 


LV.    CHANXEL  OF  ALL  SAINTS',  DORCHESTER,   MASS. 


screen  there  is  a  change;  and  both  from  the  standpoint  of  rev- 
erence and  from  that  of  artistic  composition  it  is  imperative 
that,  to  borrow  a  musical  term,  the  crescendo  that  culminates 
in  the  climax  of  the  altar  itself  should  begin  here. 


90 


Cope  &  Stewardson,  Architects. 
LIV.  CHOIR  SCREEN,  ST.  LUKE'S,  GERMANTOWN,   PENN. 


CHANCEL    AND     ITS     FITTINGS 

It  is  not  necessary  that  there  should  be  an  arch  separating 
the  chancel  from  the  nave,  it  is  not  even  necessary  that  there 
should  be  a  choir  screen, —  either  or  both  of  these  features  are 
good  if  properly  used:  it  is  simply  a  question  of  design,  and 
here  the  architect's  word  should  be  the  deciding  power.  Where 
a  church  is  long,  narrow,  and  high,  an  arch  gives  a  noble  ef- 
fect, and  the  same  is  true  of  the  rood-  or  choir-screen.  In  many 
cases,  however,  a  low  parapet  with  a  big  rood-beam  above,  as  in 
Figure  LV.,  is  better  than  the  screen.  Where  the  latter  feature 
is  used,  it  may  be  made  extraordinarily  beautiful,  as  in  Figure 
LI  v.,  which  is  from  a  church  in  Germantown  and  is  one  of  the 
best  pieces  of  ecclesiastical  wood-carving  in  America.  It  should, 
however,  always  be  of  wood.  At  least  this  should  be  so  unless 
we  can  learn  from  some  of  the  old  screens  in  Spain  how  to  use 
metal  for  this  purpose.  As  matters  stand  now,  the  trade  screen 
of  brass  or  iron  is  abhorrent  and  hardly  to  be  endured. 

The  rood-beam,  particularly  if  it  supports  a  carven  Calvary 
or  a  painted  icon  of  the  Crucifixion,  is  capable  of  being  made 
singularly  effective  ;  and  it  is  altogether  too  little  used.  In  cer- 
tain old  churches  this  beam  became  a  rood-loft,  often  of  amaz- 
ing richness;  but  it  is  hard  to  see  any  particular  justification  for 
this  feature  now,  and  its  charm  is  often  that  of  its  antiquity 
alone.  In  Figure  LVI.  both  loft  and  beam  are  used  with  fine 
effect.  Figure  LVI  I.  is  a  fine  example  of  the  best  type  of  rood- 
screen,  though  for  some  unaccountable  reason  the  Corpus  is 
lacking  from  the  cross.  Figure  LVI  1 1,  shows  a  splendid  old 
loft  from  which  the  Calvary  has  been  removed. 

Of  the  furniture  connected  with  the  chancel,  yet  generally 
just  outside  its  limits,  the  pulpit,  lectern,  and  litany  desk  are  the 
most  important.  What  I  have  said  of  the  screen  is  true  in  a 
large  measure  both  of  the  pulpit  and  lectern ;  that  is,  that  they 
are  best  if  made  of  wood.     Not  that  metal  is  out  of  the  ques- 

93 


LVI.     ST.  AGNES'S,  KENNINGTON,  LONDON. 


CHANCEL    AND     ITS     FITTINGS 

tion.  In  ancient  times  it  was  well  employed,  and  stone  also ;  but 
nowadays  the  temptation  of  lacquered  brass  is  too  much  for  us, 
and  the  results  are  unfortunate.  If  anywhere  there  should  be 
solidity  and  a  certain  grave  dignity  in  a  pulpit;  and,  where  this 
'Structure  is  wrought  of  filigree  brass  or  iron,  the  effect  is  fatal. 
The  same  is  true  in  a  large  degree  of  the  lectern.  There  is  no 
possible  reason  why  it  should  be  in  the  form  of  an  eagle ;  and 
there  is  every  reason  why,  if  an  eagle  is  used,  it  should  be  as 
conventional  as  possible.  The  realistic  bird  with  natural  feath- 
ers is,  of  course,  bad  art.  In  Figure  LIX.  I  have  shown  a  very 
beautiful  eagle  lectern  of  modern  English  make,  and  in  Figure 
LX.  another  design,  wrought  out  on  older  lines.  The  trian- 
gular lecterns,  such  as  we  find  all  over  Europe,  are  not  only 
convenient,  but  uniquely  beautiful ;  and  we  can  only  hope  that 
their  use  may  be  restored. 

When  the  pulpit  stands  on  the  Gospel  side  of  the  church, 
as  should  always  be  the  case,  the  lectern  is  usually  placed  in  a 
corresponding  position  on  the  Epistle  side ;  but  a  usage  that  is 
now  being  restored  is  the  placing  of  the  lectern  in  the  middle 
of  the  space  between  the  rows  of  choir  stalls  and  directly  in 
front  of  the  altar,  though  it  is,  of  course,  much  lower,  since  it 
stands  on  the  lowest  choir  level.  In  many  ways  this  position  is 
more  convenient  and  dignified  than  any  other. 

Viewed  solely  from  the  standpoint  of  the  architect,  the  lec- 
tern is,  next  to  the  altar  itself,  the  best  subject  for  design  that 
the  Church  offers ;  and,  now  that  the  curious  mania  for  eagle 
lecterns  is  dying  away,  there  is  a  chance  to  make  these  beauti- 
ful objects  what  their  general  lines  and  the  requisites  of  their 
function  make  possible:  there  is  no  limit  to  the  conceivable 
variations  of  design  and  material. 

The  litany  desk  has  acquired  a  certain  novel  importance  of 
late  that  hardly  seems  reasonable.     As  it  is  used  only  now  and 

95 


LVII.     CHOIR  SCREEN,   NEWCASTLE  CATHEDRAL. 


CHANCEL    AND    ITS     FITTINGS 

then,  it  should  be  brought  out  only  when  needed,  instead  of 
standing,  as  sometimes  happens,  a  stumbling-block  at  the  head 
of  the  centre  aisle  in  season  and  out  of  season.  The  nature  of 
its  service  demands,  of  course,  the  plainest  and  most  austere  de- 
sign. Indeed,  a  simple  faldstool  is  about  the  best  thing  that  can 
be  used. 

Entering  the  chancel,  let  us  now  consider  its  general  dispo- 
sition. First  of  all,  let  me  argue  for  space,  for  generosity  of 
treatment.  Crowding  is  quite  out  of  the  question.  Here  we 
must  have  ample  room  :  even  if  the  church  is  small,  the  chancel 
must  be  big  and  dignified.  (See  Figure  LXI.)  There  must 
be  ample  space  between  the  front  rows  of  choir  stalls, —  eight 
feet  at  the  very  least,  and  as  much  more  as  possible.  Except 
in  very  large  churches  the  nave  and  choir  cannot  be  over 
twenty-eight  or,  at  the  most,  thirty-two  feet  wide  between  piers ; 
and,  where  three  rows  of  stalls  on  each  side  are  necessary,  this 
only  leaves  from  ten  to  fourteen  feet  for  the  open  space. 
Where  length  is  possible,  it  is  better  to  have  only  two  rows  of 
stalls  on  each  side ;  for,  the  deeper  the  chancel,  the  better  it  is 
in  every  way. 

Each  row  of  stalls  should  be  lifted  one  or  two  steps  above 
the  row  in  front,  these  steps  being  carried  across  the  choir  be- 
yond the  seats.  The  rear  row  of  stalls  should,  if  possible,  be 
divided  into  separate  seats  and  covered  by  traceried  canopies, 
those  nearest  the  choir  parapet  on  each  side  being  distin- 
guished from  the  others  by  greater  richness  of  treatment. 
Where  there  are  three  rows  of  stalls  to  a  side,  the  rear  rows  are 
properly  clergy  stalls,  the  two  at  the  west  being,  of  course,  for 
the  rector  and  curate. 

Picturesque  and  alluring  to  the  architect  as  is  the  old 
scheme  of  returned  stalls, —  that  is,  stalls  facing  the  altar 
against    the  screen, —  there  seems  scant   justification    for   the 

97 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

mode,  except  perhaps  in  cathedrals,  so  it  is  hardly  to  be  com- 
mended. 

For  the  decorative  treatment  of  clergy  and  choir  stalls  there 
is  no  lack  of  good  models  in  England  and  on  the  Continent. 
In  the  canopies  of  the  former,  cost  is  the  only  limit  of  richness. 


miM^j^A 


LVni.    SCREEN  AT  BRODNINCH,  DEVON. 


Fretted  and  wrought  into  intricate  design  of  leafage  and  tracery, 
they  may  become  lasting  memorials  of  faithful  and  loving 
craftsmanship,  and  every  detail  of  enrichment  adds  to  their 
value  as  an  evidence  of  devotion, —  at  least,  this  should  be  so, 
for  it  was  in  the  wonderful  past;  but  nowadays,  when  crafts- 
manship has  yielded  to  trade,  it  is  hard  to  find  the  artist  in 
carving  who  puts  himself  into  his  work  with  love  for  his  labor 
and  for  the  object  of  that  labor.     Still,  such  men  exist,  fortu- 

98 


CHANCEL    AND     ITS     FITTINGS 

nately ;  and  their  work  is  priceless  in  its  value.  I  am  glad  to 
write  the  name  of  one  of  them, —  I.  Kirchmeyer,  who  carved  the 
"poppy  heads"  of  the  stalls  shown  in  Figure  LXIL,  each  one 
of  which  terminates  in  a  little  figure  hardly  six  inches  high,  of 
the  various  ministers  of  the  church,  from  the  acolyte,  thurifer 
and  chorister  to  the  deacon,  priest,  and  bishop. 

Beyond  the  choir  seats  there  will  be  at  least  three  steps  to 
the  kneeling  space  in  front  of  the  communion  rail.  Where 
space  and  funds  permit,  there  may  well  be  more.  In  a  large 
church,  the  higher  the  altar  is  raised  above  the  floor  of  the 
church,  the  more  visible  and  dignified  it  will  be.  Five  steps 
give  a  good  elevation.  Then,  with  one  at  the  communion  rail 
and  three  to  the  foot  pace  of  the  altar,  you  will  have  about  the 
least  elevation  that  will  be  dignified  and  well  proportioned. 

The  communion  rail  is  likely  to  be  a  difficult  question. 
Fortunately,  the  old  days,  when  lacquered  brass,  wrought  iron, 
and  even  cut  glass  and  encaustic  tiles  were  considered  fit 
materials,  has  passed  away ;  but  still  the  rail  is  likely  to  remain 
a  rail  or  balustrade  still,  and  this  is  seldom  dignified.  Perhaps 
the  best  form  is  that  of  a  prie-dieu,  a  movable  kneeling-bench 
with  sloping  top  and  richly  wrought  ends.  This  may  be  either 
open  or  solid,  and  may  include  gates  that  may  be  closed 
after  the  entrance  into  the  sanctuary  of  the  priests  and 
acolytes. 

After  the  altar  and  reredos  the  important  features  of  the 
sanctuary  are  the  sedilia  for  the  bishop  and  the  priests,  and 
the  credence.  The  bishop's  chair  is  always  on  the  Gospel 
side :  the  sedilia  for  the  priests  are  on  the  Epistle  side,  where 
is  also  the  credence.  A  bishop  has  his  throne  only  in  his  own 
cathedral.  In  a  parish  church,  while  it  is  right  that  there 
should  be  special  sedilia  for  the  bishop  and  his  attendant  chap- 
lain and  cross-bearer,  or  acolytes,  it  is,  nevertheless,  well  to  bear 

99 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

in  mind  that  this  is  in  no  sense  a  throne,  and  should  not  be 
treated  as  such.  Yet  it  should  be  distinguished  by  the  episco- 
pal insignia  of  the  mitre,  the  crossed  keys,  the  crosier,  etc.,  and, 
where  possible,  should  be  covered  by  a  canopy  of  rich  carving. 
The  sedile  should  be  divided  in  three,  either  by  a  chair  and 


LIX.    A  MODERN  ENGLISH  LECTERN. 


two  flanking-stools  placed  in  a  canopied  recess,  or,  like  the 
priests'  sedilia,  by  arms  and  vertical  screens.  A  faldstool  or 
kneeling-bench  is  placed  in  front  of  the  bishop  only.  (See 
Figure  LXIII.)  The  priests'  sedile  is  also  divided  in  three, 
for  the  priest,  deacon,  and  sub-deacon.  It  should  be  similar  to 
that  of  the  bishop,  but  less  elaborate ;  and  it  is  always  desirable 
that  the  seats  should  stop  some  four  inches  short  of  the  wall  to 
allow  space  for  vestments.     (See  Figure  LXIV.) 


CHANCEL    AND     ITS     FITTINGS 


The  credence  should  be  sufficiently  large  to  take  all  the 
.altar  vessels,  cruets,  etc.,  and  also  the  two  candles,  if  this  should 
happen  to  be  the  usage  of  the  church.     It  is  decidedly  more 


LX.    LECTERN   IN  ALL  SAINTS',  DORCHESTER,  MASS. 

convenient  on  the  south  wall  of  the  sanctuary  than  on  the  east 
wall ;  but,  as  the  former  is  also  the  location  of  the  priests'  sedilia, 
it  is  often  hard  to  obtain  a  sufficient  depth  to  allow  of  this,  and 
perforce  the  east  wall  is  chosen.  As  good  an  architectural 
treatment  as  there  is,  is  that  of  the  canopied  niche,  the  lines 


CHURCH      BUILDING 


being   similar   to    those    of    the   sedilia.     (See  Figure    LXV.) 
Where  it  is  possible  to  carry  the  lines  of  the  reredos  around 


J.  D.  Sedding,  Architect. 
LXI.    HOLY  TRINITY  CHURCH,  LONDON. 


on  either  side,  including  the  credence,  bishop's  and  priests' 
sedilia,  and  connecting  with  the  organ  case  and  canopied 
stalls,  the  whole  being  tied  together  in  front  by  the  rood- 
screen,  the  effect  is  both  rich  and  reserved,  full  of  dignity  and 


CHANCEL    AND     ITS     FITTINGS 


architectural  quality.  Where  this  is  done,  the  windows  come 
of  course  above  the  line  of  woodwork,  the  cresting  of  the  latter 
reaching  just  to  the  window-sills. 

In  the  decoration  of  the  chancel  there  is  the  widest  range 


LXII.    CHOIR   STALLS,   MIDDLEBO ROUGH,  MASS. 

of  possibilities.  Carved  and  traceried  stone  with  little  statues 
in  their  fretted  niches,  richly  wrought  woodwork,  stamped  and 
gilded  leather,  tapestries,  wall  paintings, —  if  they  are  good, — 
all  may  be  used  to  create  a  composition  of  the  utmost  richness. 
When  to  this  are  added  the  light  from  painted  windows,  the 
flicker  of  burnished   brass    in  the  shape   of  candlesticks   and 

103 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

hanging  lamps,  and,  above  all,  the  crowning  glory  of  the  altar 
and  reredos,  an  architectural  composition  is  obtained  that  is 
unique  in  its  potentialities. 

Yet  the  chance  for  solemn  effects  is  often  most  recklessly- 
thrown  away.  I  do  not  need  to  describe  the  commoner  sort  of 
chancel :  we  all  know  it,  with  its  lacquered  brass  and  futile  carv- 
ing, its  cheap  tile-work  and  cheaper  frescoing.  For  this  sort  of 
thing  architects  and  decorators  are  more  to  blame  than  any 
others.  The  desire  for  the  right  thing  exists,  but  too  often 
only  to  be  betrayed.  As  church  architecture  is  precisely  the 
noblest  form  of  the  art  and  the  one  least  to  be  mastered  by 
any  system  of  contemporary  instruction,  so  it  is  the  one  least 
studied  and  least  considered.  Architects  and  decorators  and 
"  Ecclesiastical  Art  Furnishers  "  offer  their  wares  with  serene 
self-satisfaction,  quite  ignorant  of  their  own  ignorance,  and 
potent  to  play  upon  the  credulity  of  church  authorities  who  de- 
sire only  what  is  good.  Until  a  few  years  ago  there  were  in 
this  country  only  one  or  two  architects  who  could  really  design 
a  true  church,  and  no  men  whatever  who  could  furnish  good 
decoration,  whether  in  the  shape  of  glass,  metal  work,  carving 
or  embroidery.  This  condition  has  changed,  but,  unfortunately, 
the  inadequate  men  still  continue  to  offer  their  services  and 
their  products ;  and  church  authorities,  naturally  ignorant  of  the 
merits  of  various  men  and  the  things  they  produce,  are  lured 
into  accepting  bad  art  when  really  they  want  only  what  is 
good.  Fortunately,  the  Church  has  largely  escaped  the 
blandishments  of  those  quacks  who  print  showy  books  of 
(happily)  impossible  structures,  the  alleged  "  architects "  who 
are  unknown  in  the  profession  and  who  inflict  strange  horrors 
on  the  unwary  denominations ;  but  it  is  a  question  if  the  more 
august  corporations  and  the  more  eminent  architects  who  pos- 
sess   intelligence    that    is    misdirected,   and   compel   popular 

104 


LXIII.    BISHOP'S  SEDILIA,  ALL  SAINTS',  DORCHESTER. 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

admiration  through  the  gorgeousness  of  their  products,  are  not 
really  more  dangerous.  Blatant  ignorance  deceives  only  the 
ignorant,  but  a  great  name  and  glittering  splendor  may  easily 
deceive  the  very  elect. 

After  all,  there  is  but  one  test, —  the  test  of  what  has  been ; 


IHH 

■MA^'^'TV^rMK  ■jZ^jA^'— -^ 

■^■■B| 

1 

j1  ^^l^^^^^^^^l 

li 

1 1 

L. 

m  .. 

LXIV.     PRIESTS'  SEDILIA,  ALL  SAINTS',  DORCHESTER. 

and  this  must  always  be  applied  to  modern  church  work,  in 
order  that  we  may  know  if  it  is  good. 

In  Figures  LXVI.  and  LXVII.,  I  have  shown  plans  of 
chancels  arranged  in  accordance  with  precedent  and  the  de- 
mands of  convenience.  In  All  Saints'  the  dimensions,  particu- 
larly of  the  sanctuary,  are  somewhat  restricted ;  but  nowadays 
this  is  likely  to  be  almost  unavoidable.  Some  day  we  shall  realize 
that  the  choir  and  sanctuary  do  not  fulfil  all  their  requirements 
if  they  are  just  large  enough  to  pass  —  and  no  more;  that  the 

io6 


CHANCEL    AND     ITS     FITTINGS 


nave  must  be  the  first  consideration,  the  chancel  but   an  ad- 
junct.    The  choir  I  refer  to  was  not  built  after  this  fashion, 


LXV.    CREDENCE,  ALL  SAINTS'  CHURCH,  DORCHESTER. 

but  rather  with  a  perfectly  clear  idea  of  its  primacy.  Still,  it 
could  well  have  been  made  a  little  deeper,  and  would  have  been 
so,  had  the  architects  realized  the  importance  of  the  church 
they  were  building.     Figure  LXVII.  is  the  typical  or,  rather, 

107 


LXVI.     CHANCEL  OF  ALL  SAINTS',  DORCHESTER,  MASS. 


LXVII.     A  TYPICAL  PLAN. 


CHANCEL    AND    ITS     FITTINGS 

ideal  chancel,  with  plenty  of  space,  adequate  elevation,  and 
ample  sanctuary.  This  is  the  type  to  which  all  chancels  should 
approach  as  nearly  as  the  conditions  will  permit. 

When  it  was  held  that  one  priest  in  the  service  of  the  altar 
was  all  that  could  be  required,  the  cramped  old  chancels  were 
adequate  perhaps  from  the  standpoint  of  economy  and  practi- 
cability ;  but,  now  that  the  altar  service  is  almost  universally 
surrounded  with  the  dignity  and  solemnity  established  as  the 
reverent  usage  by  centuries  of  Christian  life,  these  no  longer 
serve,  and  a  shallow  niche  is  barred  forever,  in  its  place  coming 
the  wide  and  spacious  chancel,  the  many  sequent  steps,  and 
the  sanctuary,  where  ample  room  is  provided  for  a  grave  and 
solemn  ritual. 


109 


CHAPELS,  BAPTISTERIES, 
AND  SACRISTIES 


Closely  connected  with  the  church  proper,  and  forming  a 
part  of  its  fabric,  aiding  also  in  making  up  the  total  of  the  dom- 
inant idea,  are  the  various  features  to  a  consideration  of  which 
this  chapter  is  devoted.  A  church  is  not  solely  the  altar  in  its 
sanctuary,  with  the  choir  or  presbytery  adjoining,  and  beyond 
the  shelter  for  the  congregation  of  worshippers.  It  is  the  whole 
wonderful  composition  and  combination  of  parts  that  together 
make  up  what  is  really  the  most  perfect  architectural  fabric 
thus  far  evolved  by  man.  In  the  baptistery  we  find  the  porch  of 
the  temple  of  God,  through  which  all  men  must  pass.  In  the 
chapels  we  find  the  outward  sign  of  the  honoring  of  certain  of 
the  saints,  not  for  themselves,  but  for  the  showing  of  God  in 
them.  In  ancient  times  we  had  also  the  record  of  the  piety  and 
devotion  of  men  who  showed  in  this  wise  their  gratitude  for 
mercies  and  blessings.  In  the  sacristies  we  have  rooms  which 
in  themselves  are  not  secular  apartments,  but  tinged  with  the 
sanctity  of  the  sanctuary, —  a  fact  too  often  carelessly  overlooked. 
All  of  these  integral  parts  of  the  church  must  receive  study  and 
consideration  equal  to  that  given  to  the  church  itself.  Let  us 
consider  them  one  by  one. 

It  is  difficult  to  reconcile  one's  self  to  the  process  of  change 
that  has  reduced  the  baptistery,  once  a  thing  of  honor  and 
dignity,  a  structure  that  showed  through  its  very  solemnity  and 
importance  the  greatness  of  the  sacrament  to  which  it  was  con- 
secrated, to  an  insignificant  font  hidden  in  an  aisle,  crowded 
against  the  wall,  or,  in  violation  of  all  right  sentiment  and  just 
teaching,  intruded  into  the  very  chancel  itself.     Surely,  the  bap- 

TII 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

tistery  should  possess  that  architectural    importance    that   its 
functions  argue,  and  so  give  to  the  font  the   eminence  it  de- 


C.  A.  Nicholson,  Architect. 
LXVIII.     FONT,  COCKINGTON   CHURCH,  DEVON. 

mands.  Formerly  the  baptistery  was  a  building  apart,  second 
in  importance  only  to  the  church ;  and  its  lesson  was  clearly 
read.  Where  this  cannot  be  now,  we  can  at  least  isolate  the 
font  in  its  own  area,  and  so  design  its  architectural  surround- 
ings as  to  give  it  its  due  eminence. 

112 


W.  K.  Lethaby,  Architect. 
LXIX.    NEW  FONT  AND  CANOPY,  BENTHAM  CHURCH,  YORKSHIRE. 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

As  I  have  said  before,  the  ancient  position  of  the  baptistery 
was  either  before  the  church  or  at  its  very  entrance,  so  symbol- 
izing its  function  as  the  point  of  the  beginning  of  the  Christian 
life.  The  symbol  is  precious,  but  it  is  not  of  supreme  value. 
Convenience  and  modern  usage  may  seem  to  demand  a  posi- 
tion nearer  the  chancel,  and  there  is  no  good  reason  why  this 
should  not  obtain.  In  Figure  LXX.  it  is  shown  on  one  side  of 
the  choir,  the  morning  chapel  being  in  a  corresponding  position 


cnom 


LXX.    ARRANGEMENT  OF  BAPTISTERY  AND  SACRISTIES. 

on  the  other  side ;  and  this  is  a  very  convenient  position,  near  the 
sacristies,  and  easy  of  access  from  the  parish  building.  The 
font  is  so  placed  as  to  give  it  prominence  and  dignity.  Behind 
may  very  well  be  a  niche  with  a  statue  of  Saint  John  the  Bap- 
tist. In  Figure  LXX VI.  it  forms  part  of  the  side  chapel. 
This,  also,  is  a  good  position,  both  from  a  practical  and  an 
architectural  standpoint. 

The  font,  like  the  altar,  should  be  of  stone ;  for  this  is  solid 
and  everlasting.  In  shape  it  may  vary  widely,  and  also  in  size, 
though  it  should  always  bear  a  certain  relation  to  the  size  of 
the  church.     The  drain  must,  of  course,  communicate  directly 


114 


<II)ui*qfOurSeu)iouif 


/TO^       fr. 


LXXI. 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

with  the  earth,  never,  under  any  circumstances,  with  the  system 
of  sewerage.  A  cover  is  imperative ;  and  this  must  always  be 
fixed  firmly  in  place,  except  when  the  font  is  in  use.  I  have 
seen  fonts  filled  with  flowers  upon  occasion,  and  there  should 
be  no  opportunity  for  this  unconscious  irreverence.  In  the 
design  of  the  font  cover  there  is  an  opportunity  for  almost  un- 
limited richness.  Where  this  cover  can  be  suspended  from  the 
roof  and  raised  and  lowered  by  counterweights,  perhaps  the 
best  results  may  be  obtained.  In  Figures  LXVIII.,  LXIX., 
and  LXXI.  are  shown  various  types  of  fonts,  with  their  covers. 
Figure  LXXI.  is  of  the  traditional  type,  an  elaborate,  spire-like 
fabric  rising  to  a  great  height.  Figure  LXIX.  is  slightly 
varied  from  old  modes,  and  is  a  good  example  of  the  vital  and 
original  design  that  characterizes  the  new  school  of  industrial 
art  in  England.  Figure  LXVIII.  is  still  more  original:  too 
much  so,  perhaps,  since  it  has  a  certain  suggestion  of  the  old 
well-curb. 

As  I  have  said  before,  baptisteries  and  chapels  are  of  the 
utmost  service  architecturally  in  breaking  up  the  contours,  in 
developing  the  shadows,  in  gaining  the  effect  of  mystery  that  is 
so  necessary  to  any  good  architectural  scheme;  and  it  is  quite 
wrong  to  disregard  them.  Of  course,  their  chief  justification  is 
essentially  religious ;  but  in  addition  to  this  is  the  architectural 
reason,  and  this  we  cannot  afford  to  ignore.  A  good  church 
from  an  artistic  standpoint  is  composed  of  sanctuary,  choir,  and 
nave  of  the  utmost  simplicity  of  design,  gravity  of  massing,  re- 
finement of  proportion,  classicism  of  composition,  and,  beyond 
this,  of  bounding  walls,  following  varied  lines,  giving  space,  dis- 
tance, variety,  mystery.  The  central  portion  must  be  full  of  a 
clear,  diffused  light,  dying  away  in  shadow  above;  but  beyond 
the  nave  arcades  should  be  infinite  variety  of  light  and  color, 
and  this  we  obtain  by  the  use  of  baptisteries,  chapels,  and 
aisles. 

ii6 


CHAPELS,    BAPTISTERIES,    ETC 


Hardly  any  church  is  built  nowadays  that  has  not  at  least 
one  chapel ;  and,  from  an  architectural  standpoint,  the  more 
there  are  of  these,  the  better.  In  Figure  LXXH.  I  have  shown 
the  plan  of  a  very  perfect  little  English  church,  where  the  ar- 


LXXII.    CHURCH  OF  THE  HOLY  ROOD,  WATFORD,   HERTS. 

rangement  of  chapels,  and  of  the  baptistery  as  well,  is  about  as 
perfect  as  may  be.  These  chapels  are  so  arranged  that,  wher- 
ever one  may  look,  one  sees  little  altars  subordinate,  but  all 
leading  up  to  the  high  altar  itself. 

Where  there  is  only  one  chapel,  it  will  be  used  largely  for 
daily  services,  therefore  it  should  be  easy  of  access.     The  size 

117 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

is,  of  course,  dependent  on  the  particular  needs  of  the  parish ; 
but  it  should  be  so  placed  that  all  the  seats  may  be  available 
when  the  service  is  at  the  high  altar.  In  the  transitional 
period  between  the  barren  days  when  the  church  was  securely 
locked  from  Sunday  night  until  Sunday  morning,  and  the 
present  time,  when  it  is  usually  open  daily  from  sunrise  until 
sunset,  the  chapel  that  could  be  shut  off  from  the  rest  of  the 
church,  thus  effecting  an  economy  in  the  heating,  was  tempo- 
rarily useful ;  but  this  consideration  seems  to  have  passed.  At 
all  events,  it  is  passing  rapidly ;  and  so  it  is  seldom  necessary  to 
provide  a  chapel  that  may  be  isolated  upon  occasion.  When  it 
is  demanded,  curtains  are  usually  sufficient.  Sliding  or  rolling 
doors,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  are  an  offence  and  destructive  of  all 
religious  feeling. 

Of  course,  the  sanctuary  of  a  chapel  need  be  of  no  great 
size ;  and  the  altar  also  will  bear  its  due  proportion  to  the  chapel 
itself.  The  credence  should  be  as  near  the  altar  as  possible, 
since  the  priest  may  frequently  be  without  a  server.  For  the 
same  reason,  many  steps  to  the  foot-pace  are  undesirable  and 
unnecessary.  Two  stalls  only  are  requisite,  one  on  either  side 
of  the  chancel.  If  possible,  they  should  be  outside  the  com- 
munion rail,  as  should  the  lectern  as  well. 

Of  course,  the  small  size  of  a  chapel  makes  possible  much 
finer  detail  in  the  ornamentation,  much  greater  richness  and 
elaboration ;  but  everything  must  be  subordinated  to  the  whole 
church,  forming  a  part  of  its  unity.  The  same  is  true  of  its  ex- 
terior. One  of  the  most  delightful  qualities  of  the  mediaeval 
churches  is  the  frankness  with  which  rich  little  chapels  are  built 
on  wherever  they  are  wanted,  differing  in  scale  and  detail  from 
the  original  fabric,  yet  harmonizing  perfectly  in  the  final  effect. 
(See  Figure  LXXV.) 

If  the  cobbler  should  stick  to  his  last,  so  should  the  architect 


LXXIII.    LADY  CHAPEL,  ST.  MARTIN'S,  MARPLE. 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

be  careful  not  to  go  beyond  the  limits  of  his  own  province ;  but 
he  may  surely  express  the  hope  that,  for  the  sake  of  the  art  he 
follows,  there  may  be  a  return  to  the  clustering  chapels  that  go 
so  far  toward  giving  a  church  richness  of  composition  and 
splendor  of  effect.  In  the  dedications  there  is  a  great  oppor- 
tunity for  individuality;  and,  as  a  result,  each  church  takes  on  a 
certain  personality  that  differentiates  it  without  separation. 

In  Figure  LXXVI.  I  have  shown  such  a  chapel  as  would 
be  appropriate  for  daily  services  where  only  one  altar  is  required 
in  addition  to  the  high  altar.  The  baptistery  is  arranged  in 
connection  with  it,  and  forms  the  westernmost  bay.  As  will 
be  noticed,  it  is  conveniently  placed  with  reference  to  the  side 
porch,  and  may  be  entirely  separated  from  the  chapel  or  used 
in  connection  with  it. 

One  mistake  that  is  frequently  made  in  the  building  of 
churches  is  that  of  failing  to  provide  adequate  sacristy  accom- 
modations. Even  in  large  churches  we  frequently  find  only 
a  priest's  sacristy  and  a  choir  vestry.  This  is  quite  inadequate. 
A  working  sacristy  is  imperative.  The  priest's  sacristy  should 
be  neither  an  anteroom  nor  a  study:  it  is  for  the  vesting  of 
the  clergy,  and  for  this  only.  The  choir  vestry  should  be  used 
as  such  alone.  An  altar  —  or  working  —  sacristy  is  absolutely 
necessary.  This  is  the  room  for  the  altar  guild,  if  there  is  one, 
and  for  the  acolytes,  if  the  usage  of  the  church  calls  for  them.  It 
is  also  for  the  sacristan.  Indeed,  it  is  a  kind  of  central  office  of 
administration ;  and  without  it  a  church  is  seriously  hampered. 
Here  the  flowers  are  prepared  for  the  altar,  the  altar  vestments 
stored  and  made  ready  for  use,  altar  ornaments  cleaned  and 
taken  care  of.  This  room  may  also  be  used  for  vestry  meetings 
and  by  the  wardens.  A  large  chest  or  case  in  the  centre  will 
hold  frontals  and  superfrontals.  There  should  be  a  sink  and 
tables  for  the  preparing  of  flowers,  cases  or  racks  for  banners 


LXXIV.     IStW    ALIAR,  ST.  MARY'S,  CHADDESDEN,  DERKY. 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

and  processional  crosses,  storage  for  candles  and  incense, —  if 
they  are  used, —  presses  for  the  vestments  of  the  acolytes,  a 
brazier  for  kindling  charcoal,  a  large  safe  or  vault  for  the  stor- 
ing of  the  more  valuable  ornaments,  the  books  of  the  parish, 
etc.;  indeed,  provision  for  the  thousand  and  one  things  that  go 
toward  making  up  the  modern  service  in  its  richest  form.  If 
possible,  the  working  sacristy  should  be  located  between  the 
priest's  and  the  choir  sacristy,  and  it  should  be  so  placed  as  to 
give  immediate  access  to  the  chancel.  In  Figure  LXX.  I  have 
shown  a  convenient  grouping  of  sacristies ;  but  there  are,  of 
course,  many  variants,  the  arrangement  being  dependent  on  the 
special  parish  under  consideration. 

It  may  seem  that  I  am  assuming  a  good  deal  in  speaking  so 
assuredly  of  matters  which  are  as  yet  by  no  means  common  in 
this  country  and  are  only  to  be  found  in  the  few  churches  where 
an  elaborate  ritual  is  employed,  but  I  am  only  laying  down  the 
most  complete  scheme  that  might  ever  be  required.  Usage 
must  govern  the  requirements,  and  I  am  concerned  only  in 
endeavoring  to  cover  all  possible  demands.  There  are  few 
churches,  I  fancy,  where  flowers  and  simple  vestments  are  not 
used  in  the  service  of  the  altar;  and,  wherever  this  is  true,  a 
working  sacristy  is  quite  as  necessary  as  where  a  richer  ritual 
is  concerned. 

The  choir  sacristy  is  a  comparatively  simple  matter  and 
needs  no  description.  The  priest's  sacristy  is  quite  another 
thing,  and  demands  much  thought.  Of  course,  where  the  sim- 
plest ritual  is  observed,  its  requirements  are  comparatively 
slight ;  but  there  are  certain  things  usually  demanded,  such,  for 
example,  as  wardrobes  for  cassocks  and  surplices,  cases  for 
stoles  and  altar  linen,  a  safe  for  the  storage  of  the  sacred  ves- 
sels. As  the  elaborateness  of  the  ritual  rises,  the  demands  in- 
crease until  there  must  be  semicircular  cope-cases  turning  on  a 


CHAPELS,    BAPTISTERIES,    ETC. 

central  pivot,  flat,  shallow  drawers  in  great  numbers  for  chasu- 
bles, dalmatics,  and  tunicles,  smaller  drawers  for  albs,  girdles  and 
maniples.  Where  all  these  are  necessary,  the  vestment  case 
may  best  be  arranged  with  the   turning  cope-case  below,  and 


r^ 


LXXV.    GREENAWAY'S  CHAPEL,  TIVERTON  CHURCH. 


above  sliding  shelves  for  chasubles  in  the  middle,  with  banks  of 
drawers  of  various  sizes  on  either  side.  A  piscina  is  most  de- 
sirable, with  its  drain,  of  course,  connecting  with  the  soil  below 
the  church  ;  and  "3^ prie-Dieu  is  imperative.  In  the  centre  of  the 
room  should  be  a  large  table,  where  vestments  may  be  laid  out 
in  preparation  for  the  service. 

123 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

In  Figure  LXX.  is  a  good  type  of  sacristy,  with  its  various 
furnishings  arranged  as  experience  has  shown  desirable. 

The  priest's  sacristy  is  not  a  study,  neither  is  it  an  ofBce. 
It  has  its  own  proper  function,  and  this  should  be  shown  in  its 
design  and  decoration.     Domesticity  and  cosiness  are  out  of 


LXXVI.    ARRANGEMENT  OF  CHAPEL  AND  BAPTISTERY. 


the  question.     The  solemnity  of  the  sanctuary  pervades  it,  and 
in  every  way  this  quality  should  be  shown  in  the  treatment. 

We  have  outgrown  the  curious  fancy  for  looking  on  a 
church  as  simply  an  auditorium,  with  a  prominent  pulpit  and  a 
retiring  "  communion  table."  While  this  fancy  held,  it  was  ap- 
propriate enough,  perhaps,  to  build  a  preaching  hall ;  but,  now 
that  we  are  arriving  at  a  more  just  way  of  looking  at  things,  we 

124 


CHAPELS,    BAPTISTERIES,    ETC. 

are  beginning  to  realize  that  a  church  is  not  a  simple  problem  at 
all,  but  instead  a  thing  of  the  utmost  complexity.  As  I  have 
said  before,  it  should  be  composed  almost  like  a  piece  of  music. 
Aisles,  ambulatories,  chapels,  baptisteries,  oratories,  and  even 
shrines  and  chantries,  all  unite  to  the  making  of  the  perfect 
whole. 

I  have  in  mind  one  church  recently  completed  at  great  ex- 
pense. There  was  a  possibility  for  all  the  chapels  and  accesso- 
ries that  any  architect  could  ask,  yet  the  idea  of  a  church  as  a 
living  thing  was  utterly  forgotten.  Not  only  was  the  construc- 
tion of  this  particular  church  such  as  cannot  be  admitted  in 
religious  architecture,  but  all  the  chapels  that  might  have  been 
an  integral  part  of  a  completed  whole,  adding  to  it  and  enhanc- 
ing its  splendor  and  vitality,  were  treated  in  the  most  casual 
and  accidental  fashion.  They  bear  no  relation  to  the  church 
proper,  and  are  without  architectural  or  artistic  value  of  any 
kind  whatever.  We  cannot  afford  to  make  mistakes  of  this 
kind. 

The  problem  of  church  designing  is  unlike  any  other  that 
comes  before  the  architect,  or  rather,  perhaps,  the  difference  is 
in  degree.  However  much  it  may  be  necessary  for  us  to  con- 
sider our  architectural  problems  as  studies  in  united  and  organ- 
ized design,  it  is  quite  true  that  in  the  matter  of  church  build- 
ing this  living  quality  is  supremely  dominant.  A  church  is 
organic ;  and  every  line,  every  mass,  every  detail,  must  be  care- 
fully considered  and  perfectly  adapted  to  its  ends,  forming  an 
essential  part  of  a  great  and  living  whole.  A  church  viewed 
from  its  architectural  standpoint  is  less  a  problem  of  design 
than  a  question  of  what  might  almost  be  called  creation. 


I2S 


DECORATION    AND    STAINED 

GLASS 


Both  of  these  matters  are  simply  problems  in  design  :  they 
fall  within  the  province  of  the  architect,  and  by  him  should  be 
determined,  precisely  as  he  decides  questions  of  proportion  and 
composition ;  yet  they  form  so  important  a  category,  they  fall 
so  naturally  into  one  class,  and  they  are  both  such  fruitful 
sources  of  error,  that  they  seem  to  demand  special  considera- 
tion. 

Here  in  America  they  have  acquired  an  importance  quite 
out  of  proportion  to  their  deserts.  At  least,  this  is  true  of  deco- 
ration, owing  to  the  fact  that  we  are  surrounded  by  churches 
built,  not  as  those  of  the  Middle  Ages,  of  masonry  that  is  in 
itself  sufficiently  decorative,  but  of  materials  that  have  no  value 
in  themselves,  that  are  inexpensive,  and  that  simply  demand 
some  form  of  superficial  ornamentation.  Practically,  all  of  our 
churches,  old  or  new,  are  covered  with  plaster  as  to  their  inte- 
riors. This  is  put  on  in  broad  masses,  and  great  walls  unbroken 
by  mouldings  or  panel  work  or  carving  clamor  for  some  treat- 
ment that  may  give  them  a  degree  of  beauty.  Owing  to  the 
disorders  and  the  anarchy  of  the  period  of  the  Reformation 
and  that  of  the  various  social  and  political  revolutions  that  fol- 
lowed from  it,  nearly  every  trace  of  the  original  color  decora- 
tion of  Christian  churches  —  particularly  in  those  countries 
where  Gothic  had  reached  a  high  degree  of  development  —  has 
been  swept  away,  and  only  misleading  vestiges  remain.  With 
the  first  awakening  of  the  artistic  sense  some  twenty-five  years 
ago,  recourse  was  had  to  these  fragments  for  suggestions  as  to 
the  right  course  to  pursue ;  and  very  disastrous  were  the  results. 

127 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

It  is  doubtful  even  if  the  original  thing  ever  had  much  value ; 
for,  apart  from  glass-work,  the  mediaeval  craftsmen  seemed  to 
possess  little  skill  in  the  use  of  color,  and  we  have  to  go  back 
several  centuries  and  seek  those  countries  where  Oriental  influ- 
ence asserts  itself  to  find  really  great  color  decoration.  But,  if 
Gothic  color  ornamentation  was  inferior,  it  was  at  least  better 
than  the  modern  imitation,  which  was  really  just  about  as  bad 
as  could  be.  At  least,  it  seemed  so  until  something  worse  took 
its  place.  This  was  the  new  and  presently  popular  school  of 
Dutch  metal  and  glass  beads,  Mexican  onyx,  flashy  mosaics, 
and  lacquered  brass.  For  several  years  this  "  bar-room  "  school 
of  decoration  ran  riot,  and  the  results  were  utterly  lamentable. 
In  Figure  LXXXI.  is  shown  an  interior  of  a  church  that  has 
been  ruined  by  this  wave  of  barbarism,  and  it  is  a  good  example 
of  the  disaster  that  has  overtaken  scores  of  once  tolerably  good 
churches. 

Of  course,  photographs  are  almost  useless  in  dealing  with 
this  question,  for  they  cannot  suggest  color,  and  the  color  is 
the  most  grievous  offence ;  but  they  can  at  least  show  the  hope- 
less triviality  of  form,  the  desecration  of  good  lines,  the  tawdri- 
ness,  and  the  vulgarity.  In  this  particular  case  there  was  a 
good  foundation, —  a  simple,  finely  conceived  interior  designed 
by  a  reserved  and  conscientious  architect.  The  lines  were 
strong,  clean,  and  graceful,  the  whole  effect  grave  and  self-re- 
specting. Yet  the  ruthless  "  decorators,"  men  of  fame  and  po- 
sition and  pretending  to  authority,  went  through  the  thing  like 
a  pestilence,  and  by  their  absurd  fretwork  hung  on  the  vaulting, 
their  color,  and  their  frivolous  tracery, —  above  all,  by  their  win- 
dows, which  violate  every  law  of  the  art  of  stained  glass, —  have 
metamorphosed  a  noble  church  into  a  cheap  auditorium. 

This  example  serves  to  show  the  most  deadly  error  that  is 
threatening  to-day  in  the  line  of  decoration,  and  the  one  that  is 

128 


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DECORATION    AND    STAINED    GLASS 

most  dangerous,  since  it  comes  with  a  certain  claim  to  author- 
ity, and,  being  often  an  unintelligent  imitation  of  Oriental 
models,  has  just  that  gorgeousness  that  appeals  to  the  unedu- 
cated. 

In  Figures  LXXIX.  and  LXXX.  are  examples  of  really 
noble  decoration,  and  the  contrast  between  these  and  the  horri- 
ble modern  imitations,  evident  enough  in  photographs,  is  incal- 
culably more  startling  in  actual  fact ;  for  the  rank  and  crude 
combinations  of  savage  color  and  cheap  gilding  of  the  modern 
school  become  in  the  originals  wonderful  harmonies  that  satisfy 
absolutely. 

Perhaps  the  Capella  Palatina  (Figure  LXXIX.)  is  the  most 
perfect  example  of  judicious  yet  magnificent  decoration  in  the 
world,  though  in  Japan  there  are  temple  interiors,  particularly 
that  of  Chion-in  in  Kyoto,  that  press  it  close.  It  is  jewel 
work  pure  and  simple ;  gold  and  colored  mosaic,  alabaster,  por- 
phyry, opus  Alexandrinum  and  Arabian  inlay  of  nacre  and 
glass  mosaic ;  yet  so  splendidly  is  the  whole  thing  composed 
and  tied  together,  so  complete  is  the  reserve  in  the  use  of  gor- 
geous materials,  that  there  is  no  effect  of  undue  richness,  not 
even  of  ostentation.  The  result  is  a  great  glow  of  solemn 
color;  and  one  reverences  because  one  realizes  that  this  is 
wealth  lavished  to  the  glory  of  God,  not  to  the  glorification  of 
men. 

The  great  trouble  with  modern  imitations  of  this  Byzantine 
and  Arabian  work  is  its  cheapness.  It  is  an  attempt  to  get 
effects  without  paying  for  them.  To  copy  the  decorations  of 
the  Capella  Palatina  to-day  would  cost  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  dollars,  yet  plausible  tradesmen  endeavor  to  get  the  optical 
effect  at  a  tithe  of  the  cost ;  and  the  result  is  —  what  only  it 
could  be  —  a  theatrical  and  tawdry  imitation,  irreligious  and 
unworthy. 

131 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

But  this  Byzantine  splendor  of  materials  is  not  necessary. 
In  Figure  LXXVIII.  is  a  view  of  one  of  the  best  examples  of 
mediaeval  color  decoration  that  has  been  preserved  to  us.  This 
is  all  pure  color,  even  without  gilding ;  yet  the  harmony  of  tone 
is  very  wonderful.  If  we  to-day  could  obtain  such  results,  if 
we  felt  color  as  did  Cimabue  and  Giotto  and  the  subsequent 
painters  down  to  the  time  of  Tintoretto,  it  would  be  safe  for  us 
to  deal  with  pigments  as  they  did ;  but  the  simple  fact  is  that 
we  do  not,  and  the  chances  are  ten  to  one  that,  were  we  to  try 
to  decorate  a  church  after  the  fashion  of  this  at  Assisi,  we 
should  fail  utterly.  We  have  not  the  color  instinct,  and  there 
is  the  end  of  it :  therefore,  the  less  we  try  to  do  in  the  line  of 
color  decoration,  the  better  it  will  be.  Marble  we  can  use, 
perhaps,  as  in  Figure  LXXXII.,  a  wonderful  piece  of  decora- 
tive composition ;  wood-carving  also,  for  we  have  great  carv- 
ers in  America ;  stained  glass,  for  we  have  only  to  abandon  the 
false  prophets  of  the  "  picture  window,"  and  we  shall  return  to 
the  true  school,  which  is  already  well  established  with  us. 
These  things  we  can  do ;  but,  in  frankness,  the  less  we  attempt 
in  the  line  of  decoration  of  plain  surfaces  through  the  use  of 
pigments,  the  better  it  will  be  for  us  —  at  present. 

In  England  things  are  a  little  better,  owing  to  the  fact  that 
there  is  now  established  in  that  happy  country  a  logical  and 
national  school  of  decorative  and  industrial  art.  In  spite  of  fre- 
quent lapses  into  frantic  sensationalism,  there  is  yet  a  steady 
tendency  toward  better  results ;  and,  though  the  best  work  is  in 
the  line  of  craftsmanship  in  metal  and  wood  and  needle  work, 
there  is  yet  a  certain  amount  of  fine  color  decoration,  as,  for 
example,  in  Figure  LXXXII  I  This  is  very  original  and 
good :  it  is  not  imitated  from  mediaeval  or  earlier  models,  but  it 
is  thoroughly  modern  and  vital.  Yet  it  is  just  the  sort  of  thing 
that,  unless  it  is  just  right,  is  likely  to  be  very  bad,  indeed; 
and  it  is  not  for  the  hands  of  the  tyro. 

132 


LXXVIII.    THE  UPPER  CHURCH  AT  ASSIST. 


LXXIX.    THE  CAPELLA  PALATINA  AT  PALERMO. 


DECORATION    AND    STAINED    GLASS 

In  Figure  LXXVII.  I  have  shown  a  reproduction  of  what  is 
perhaps  the  most  perfect  piece  of  EngHsh  ecclesiastical  decora- 
tion that  has  thus  far  been  produced,  the  great  tapestry  designed 
by  Sir  Edward  Burne-Jones  and  executed  by  William  Morris, 
now  hanging  in  the  chapel  of  Exeter  College,  Oxford.  This  most 
marvellous  work  has  every  quality  that  an  ecclesiastical  decora- 
tion should  possess.  It  is  full  of  the  most  perfect  religious 
feeling,  it  is  mediaeval  in  its  suggestion ;  yet  it  is  in  no  way  an 
imitation.  It  does  not  pretend  to  date  from  the  Middle  Ages, 
it  is  frankly  modern ;  but  it  is  the  modernism  which  must  char- 
acterize all  ecclesiastical  art,  whether  it  is  architecture,  painting, 
sculpture,  or  decoration.  It  is  the  immutable  ideal  expressed 
through  modern  methods.  It  is  the  type  of  all  work  of  this 
nature.  The  spirit  which  vitalizes  it  is  one  which  must  appear 
not  only  in  needlework,  but  in  every  category  of  religious  art, 
architecture  equally  with  the  others. 

But  a  Burne-Jones  and  a  William  Morris  appear  but  seldom 
under  our  present  civilization.  To  imitate  them  is  to  fail.  So 
the  best  we  can  do  now  is  to  leave  our  walls  and  plain  spaces 
alone,  depending  on  the  architecture  for  our  effects.  Broad 
and  simple  masses  of  low-toned  color  are  self-respecting  and 
inoffensive,  and,  above  all,  safe. 

Given  a  church  that  architecturally  is  well  composed, 
strongly  massed,  simply  designed,  with  lights  and  shadows  well 
distributed,  and  the  demand  for  color  decoration  is  not  one 
that  is  insistent.  The  sculpture  of  the  reredos,  the  needlework 
of  altar  vestments,  the  metal  of  cross  and  candlesticks  and 
sanctuary  lamps,  the  carving  of  stalls  and  pulpit  and  lectern  and 
organ  case,  give  nearly  all  the  richness,  elaboration,  and  variety 
that  are  necessary,  while  the  blazing  glass  in  the  windows  fur- 
nishes the  color  that  the  eye  demands. 

And  it  is  in  this  last  matter — that  is,  stained  glass  —  that 

135 


\ 

V 

\ 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

there  is  the  greatest  chance  for  fatal  error.  For  many  years  we 
have  been  told  that  here  in  America  we  make  the  finest  stained 
glass  the  world  has  ever  known,  and  we  have  accepted  this  dic- 
tum blindly  and  to  our  own  great  injury.  The  statement  con- 
tains both  truth  and  falsity.  So  far  as  the  mere  making  of  col- 
ored glass  is  concerned,  there  is  little  cause  for  complaint :  we 
have  produced  glass  of  very  wonderful  quality  and  noble  color, 
leaving  out  of  consideration  common  "  cathedral  glass,"  which 
in  its  American  form  is  pretty  thoroughly  bad  and  in  no  respect 
to  be  compared  with  that  made  in  England ;  but  further  than 
this  one  can  hardly  go  in  safety.  The  very  wonder  of  our  glass 
as  glass  has  been  our  ruin :  it  has  led  us  hopelessly  astray,  until 
nearly  all  the  windows  made  by  fashionable  purveyors  have 
been  definitely  wrong  viewed  as  stained  glass,  ecclesiastical  or 
otherwise. 

The  making  of  stained  glass  windows  is  a  very  noble  form 
of  art ;  but  it  is  decorative  art,  not  pictorial.  Any  art,  to  be 
good,  must  be  based  on,  even  modified  by,  its  own  limitations ; 
it  must  hold  itself  rigidly  to  the  qualities  of  its  own  medium. 
If  it  tries  to  escape  from  these,  it  becomes  unworthy  and  with- 
out value.  All  decorative  art  must  be  decorative :  this  is  a 
truism.  An  easel  picture  is  not  primarily  decorative,  nor  yet  an 
isolated  statue,  but  an  ecclesiastical  fresco,  an  altar  picture,  a 
statue  in  its  niche  on  a  church  or  any  other  building,  is  first  of 
all  a  piece  of  decoration ;  and  it  must  be  conceived  and  exe- 
cuted with  a  serious  regard  for  its  function  as  a  component  part 
of  a  great  whole.  This  the  modern  stained  glass  manufacturer 
refuses  to  admit,  and  at  the  same  time  he  insists  on  striving  to 
escape  the  limitations  of  his  medium.  He  achieves  most  won- 
derful results  that  make  the  unthinking  public  gape ;  and  there- 
fore he  exalts  his  pride,  ignorant  of  the  real  fact,  which  is  that 
he  has  failed  of  his  duty  at  every  point. 

136 


LXXX.    THE  ARCADE   OF   MONREALE. 


LXXXI.    MISPLACED  DECORATION. 


DECORATION    AND    STAINED    GLASS 

Let  me  quote  the  published  words  of  a  great  firm  that 
makes  a  specialty  of  what  it  claims  to  be  ecclesiastical  glass :  — 

"  The  canons  governing  the  mediaevalist  are  too  circum- 
scribed. They  would  not  only  hinder  the  expression  of  modern 
artistic  aspirations,  but  also  free  religious  thought.  The  German 
and  English  workers  in  glass,  who  have  followed  exclusively 
mediaeval  lines,  have  found  their  field  of  color  limited  by  a 
symbolism  which  is  largely  fanciful,  their  forms  by  a  conven- 
tionalism which  is  opposed  to  the  intellectual  and  artistic  ten- 
dency of  the  age.  . .  .  The  result  is  that  windows  have  been 
made  that  far  surpass  the  best  ones  of  the  Middle  Ages,  in 
color  effects  so  beautiful  that  they  defy  description  and  rival 
the  paintings  of  the  greatest  artists,  in  composition  and  relig- 
ious sentiment  equal  to  the  best  works  on  canvas." 

I  think  this  remarkable  statement  justifies  me  in  saying  that 
pride  has  blinded  the  eyes  of  glass-stainers  to  the  real  nature  of 
what  they  have  done.  Nothing,  to  my  mind,  could  express 
more  exactly  all  that  stained  glass  is  not  and  should  not  be. 

First  of  all,  then,  to  enunciate  a  new  doctrine  that  is  yet 
old, —  since  it  is  the  governing  law  of  all  that  was  done  in  this 
line  up  to  the  eighteenth  century, —  a  stained  glass  window  is 
simply  a  piece  of  colored  and  translucent  decoration,  abso- 
lutely subordinate  to  its  architectural  environment,  and  simply 
a  small  component  of  a  great  artistic  whole.  It  must  continue 
the  structural  wall  surface  perfectly :  therefore,  it  must  be  flat, 
without  perspective  or  modelling.  It  must  be  decorative  and 
conventional  in  design  and  color  and  in  no  respect  naturalistic. 
It  must  never  be  a  hole  in  a  masonry  wall,  but  a  portion  of  that 
wall  made  translucent.  It  must  not  assert  itself ;  that  is,  it 
must  hold  its  place  without  insolence  or  insistence.  It  must  be 
content  to  be  just  a  means  to  an  end, —  no  more.  In  the  second 
place,  it  is  technically  a  mosaic  of  pieces  of  glass ;  and  this  it 

139 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

must  always  remain.  Great  sheets  of  glass  modelled  into  folds 
of  drapery  are  forever  forbidden.  The  glass  must  be  in  com- 
paratively small  pieces,  fastened  together  by  strips  of  lead  of 
varying  widths ;  and  this  leading  must  be  as  carefully  studied, 
as  fully  respected,  as  the  glass  itself.  It  is  not  an  expedient,  an 
unfortunate  necessity,  to  be  reduced  to  the  smallest  size  and 
quantity :  it  is  of  equal  honor,  of  equal  importance,  with  the 
glass.  To  the  glowing  colors  of  the  quarries  it  gives  the 
strength  and  vigor  they  would  otherwise  lack.  The  treating 
of  leads  as  a  misfortune  to  be  minimized  and  concealed  is  one 
of  the  worst  offences  of  the  modern  makers  of  picture  windows, 
and  vitiates  their  work  permanently.  If  sensationalism  in  the 
use  of  modelled  and  opalescent  glass  is  the  killing  vice  of  Amer- 
ican work,  painted  glass  is  very  surely  an  equally  deadly  sin  in 
English  work.  Both  violate  every  law  of  good  glass-making, 
both  are  widely  popular,  and  both  are  quite  unendurable.  For 
heavily  modelled  and  plated  work  there  is  the  excuse  of  startling 
and  gorgeous  effects ;  for  painted  work,  except  so  far  as  slight 
touches  on  hands  and  faces,  there  is  no  excuse  whatever. 

Another  unpardonable  corruption  is  the  "  picture  window." 
Certain  manufacturers  — the  great  majority,  in  fact  —  have  taken 
to  copying  in  glass  the  works  of  the  old  masters ;  and  the  dull 
wonder  that  these  triumphs  of  trickery  and  bad  art  have  created 
has  given  them  a  singular  vogue.  The  whole  idea  is  so  wrong- 
headed,  so  perverse,  so  without  a  possibility  of  justification,  that 
it  is  a  waste  of  time  to  condemn  it  in  detail.  Moreover,  ade- 
quate space  is  lacking.  It  is  bad,  thoroughly  and  hopelessly 
bad ;   and  that  is  all  one  can  say. 

Almost  equally  bad  are  those  picture  windows  that  are  not 
childish  copies  of  pictures  new  or  old,  but  try  to  be  original 
compositions,  designs  that  are  full  of  perspective  and  modelling, 
and  that  reach  over  the  whole  window  opening,  regardless  of 

140 


LXXXII.    STA.  MARIA  DEI  MIRACOLI,  VENICE. 


LXXXIII.    MODERN    ENGLISH  DECORATION. 


DECORATION    AND    STAINED    GLASS 

mullions  and  tracery.  As  I  have  said  above,  perspective  and 
modelling  have  no  place  in  a  window ;  for  it  is  simply  a  piece 
of  translucent  decoration,  flat,  rigid,  and  conventional.  More- 
over, the  mullions  are  the  controlling  lines.  They  circumscribe 
the  decoration  absolutely.  Beyond  their  limits  a  certain  sub- 
ject cannot  pass.  If  they  cut  a  window  opening  into  narrow 
lights  two  or  three  feet  wide,  as  in  all  Gothic  work  they  must, 
then  the  decorative  treatment  must  be  calculated  for  these  nar- 
row strips ;  and  beyond  these  it  must  not  go.  The  modern  and 
fashionable  design  that  shows  clouds  and  trees  and  distant 
rivers  and  mountains,  with  people  wandering  about  behind  a 
paling  of  black  mullions,  would  be  grotesque,  were  it  not  so 
indicative  of  a  certain  barbarism,  and,  therefore,  tragic. 

With  that  accurate  and  sensitive  grasp  of  the  basic  laws  of 
decorative  art  that  marked  them  above  all  men  except  the  Jap- 
anese, the  mediaeval  glass-workers  seized  upon  the  most  perfect 
treatment  of  the  problem,  and  held  to  it  for  centuries.  Single 
figures,  each  filling  the  space  between  two  mullions,  with  the 
upper  portions  filled  with  rich  canopy  work,  is  exactly  the  most 
frank  and  decorative  treatment  that  can  be  discovered ;  and  we 
can  do  no  better  than  to  adhere  to  it.  Of  course,  certain  sub- 
jects adapt  themselves  to  a  treatment  that  ties  the  window 
together  into  a  pictorial  whole,  while  yet  the  various  panels 
remain  decoratively  distinct.  The  Annunciation  for  a  double 
window,  and  the  Resurrection,  the  Adoration  of  the  Magi,  and 
the  Crucifixion  for  triple  windows.  But,  wherever  this  pictorial 
suggestion  is  used,  the  utmost  care  must  be  taken  to  see  that 
the  work  still  remains  primarily  decorative.  The  figures  must 
be  formal,  not  naturalistic;  the  backgrounds,  decorative,  not 
descriptive ;  the  canopy  work  should  be  the  same  in  all  the 
openings,  to  give  unity;  and  the  clothing  and  vestments  should 
be  symbolic. 

143 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

This  latter  point  is  one  which  is  curiously  distorted  now- 
adays. We  seem  to  have  acquired  some  of  the  fear  of  anything 
ecclesiastical  that  hangs  over  the  denominations,  and,  as  well, 
a  passion  for  misunderstood  realism.  Therefore,  we  demand  that 
our  Lord  and  His  saints  should  appear  draped  in  perfectly 
meaningless  folds  of  clumsy  stuff  without  religious  significance, 
mystic  symbolism,  or  even  historical  propriety.  Now  the  law 
of  ecclesiastical  decoration  is  that  everything  should  be  both 
decorative  and  symbolic.  Every  angel  and  archangel,  every 
saint,  be  he  martyr  or  confessor,  every  prophet,  every  king,  has 
his  proper  symbolical  vestment  and  his  special  attributes.  Our 
Lord  Himself,  when  He  is  portrayed  in  glory,  is  clothed  in  the 
splendor  of  both  the  royal  and  the  priestly  vestments  that  show 
forth  His  twofold  glory  of  Priest  and  King.  The  impulse  that 
leads  to  rebellion  against  these  vestments,  these  attributes, 
because  of  some  fancied  association,  is  not  one  that  needs  to  be 
considered;  for  even  the  Christian  style  of  architecture — nay, 
even  all  art  itself  —  falls  under  the  same  condemnation. 

The  mediaeval  workers  in  colored  glass  discovered  prac- 
tically all  that  there  was  to  know  in  their  art.  In  the  clerestory 
of  Chartres,  in  the  cathedral  of  Florence,  in  York  minster,  to 
name  only  a  few  of  the  immortal  triumphs  of  glass-making, 
they  reached  a  point  beyond  which  there  was  no  possibility  of 
further  progress.  In  design,  in  religious  feeling,  in  decorative 
quality  and  workmanship,  in  the  spacing  of  the  quarries  and 
the  distribution  and  proportioning  of  leads,  they  said  the  final 
word.  With  all  our  boasting,  we  have  added  nothing  to  their 
work.  We  cannot  even  make  some  of  the  glass  they  made. 
We  can  make  very  wonderful  substitutes  that  have  certain 
splendid  qualities  of  their  own.  All  we  can  do  is  to  use  this 
as  they  would  have  used  it,  following  implicitly  their  principles 
and  their  ideals. 

144 


LXXXIV.    AN  ENGLISH  FIFTEENTH  CENTURY  WINDOW. 


DECORATION    AND    STAINED    GLASS 

In  Figure  LXXXIV.  I  have  shown  a  reproduction  of  a  very 
beautiful  fifteenth-century  window,  which  I  have  taken  from  a 
most  admirable  article  on  stained  glass  in  the  Architectural  Re- 


Reginald  Hallward. 
LXXXV.    DECORATION  OF  ROOF. 


view,  written  by  Mr.  Otto  Heinigke,  of  the  firm  of  Heinigke  & 
Bowen,  and  in  Figure  LXXXVI.  have  shown  a  modern  English 
design,  which  I  do  not  hesitate  to  call  a  piece  of  the  most 
masterly  leading,  and  as  well  of  stained  glass  designing  that 
cannot  be  criticised  in  any  way. 

147 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

It  may  seem  to  some  that  I  have  devoted  an  undue  amount 
of  space  to  the  consideration  of  stained  glass,  also  that  I  have 
been  too  severe  in  my  condemnation  of  a  school  which  is  widely 


Gerald  Moira. 
LXXXVI.    EXAMPLE  OF  GOOD  LEADED  GLASS. 


popular  with  us  to-day ;  but  stained  glass  is  inseparable  from 
Gothic  architecture,  the  two  are  absolutely  united.  No  matter 
how  good  the  church,  it  may  be  quite  ruined  by  false  glass ; 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  glass  rightly  conceived  may  do  much 
toward  saving  many  a  structure.     For  the  technical  triumphs 

148 


DECORATION    AND    STAINED    GLASS 

of  the  popular  glass-makers  I  have  every  admiration,  but  I  have 
tried  in  vain  to  obtain  from  some  of  them  designs  worked  out 
after  established  precedents.  I  have  found  myself  compelled 
to  take  what  they  saw  fit  to  give, —  that  is,  "  picture  windows," — 
or  go  elsewhere.  Now  in  any  Gothic  church  a  picture  window 
is  finally  impossible.     If  the  famous  glass-makers  will  recog- 


LXXXVII.    NEWCASTLE  CATHEDRAL. 


nize  this  fact,  and  will  show  their  willingness  to  do  work  which 
will  be  consistent  with  the  style,  religious  in  spirit,  and  purely 
decorative  in  treatment,  then  the  architects  can  ask  nothing 
better. 

To  show  the  false  position  the  art  of  glass-staining  occupies 
nowadays,  let  me  speak  of  an  incredible  occurrence  I  know  of. 
Certain  people  who  were  proposing  to  give  a  memorial  window, 
and  who  had  a  liking  for  the  painter   Millet,  asked  a  certain 

149 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

firm  of  glass-stainers  to  make  a  window  representing  "  The 
Sower";  and,  instead  of  refusing  the  commission,  it  was  ac- 
cepted with  alacrity.  Now  no  subject  could  possibly  be  chosen 
which  was  less  adaptable  to  stained  glass  than  this  particular 
picture ;  and  yet  the  work  was  cheerfully  undertaken,  without 
the  least  regard  to  the  absurdity  of  the  idea.  Not  only  this, 
but,  at  the  instigation  of  the  donors,  the  glass-makers  copied 
the  well-known  picture ;  and,  because  the  man  in  whose  memory 
the  window  was  to  be  erected  wore  a  beard,  they  showed  this 
beard  on  Millet's  figure.  Could  anything  be  more  preposter- 
ous and  more  disheartening  ?  Yet  this  is  an  example  of  what 
is  asked  for,  and  what  is  gotten  at  this  time;  and  it  shows 
how  totally  false  is  the  attitude  of  the  public  and  the  makers 
of  glass  toward  this  most  noble  and  exalted  form  of  relig- 
ious art. 


Ti,0 


THE  ALTAR 


As  the  altar  is  the  church,  as  it  is  the  reason  for  the  exist- 
ence of  the  wonderful  fabric  that  has  gradually  developed  into 
the  most  exalted  and  highly  organized  of  the  buildings  of  men, 
so  is  it  from  an  architectural  standpoint  the  centre,  the  climax 
of  the  structural  church.  To  it  all  things  are  tributary ;  and 
whether  you  say  that  the  church  itself  flows  from  it  as  from  the 
centre  of  life,  or  that  the  visible  organism  develops  cell  by  cell, 
until  it  completes  itself  in  that  for  which  it  exists,  in  that  which 
is  the  object  of  its  being,  the  result  is  the  same.  The  altar 
stands  forth  as  the  great  dominating  energy  that  controls 
and  vitalizes  all :  it  is  the  soul  of  the  marvellous  organism 
that  is  as  nearly  a  living  thing  as  anything  man  is  permitted 
to  create. 

In  designing  a  church,  this  one  thing  must  always  be  held 
in  mind.  Every  line,  every  mass,  every  detail,  is  so  conceived 
and  disposed  that  it  exalts  the  altar,  that  leads  to  it,  as  any 
work  of  art  leads  to  its  just  climax.  By  the  lines  of  arcades, 
the  curves  of  arch  and  vault,  the  ranged  windows,  and  the 
gathering  chapels  and  aisles  with  their  varied  •  lights  and 
shadows,  the  eye,  and  through  the  eye  the  mind,  and  through 
the  mind  the  soul,  is  led  onward  step  by  step  until  it  rests  on 
the  altar  itself.     (See  Figure  LXXXVII.) 

A  good  church,  like  any  work  of  good  art,  is  one  that  is  so 
delicately  organized,  so  finely  differentiated,  that  it  almost  lives. 
To  the  simpler  forms  of  building  it  bears  the  same  relation 
that  man  bears  to  the  lower  forms  of  life ;  and,  like  man,  it  pos- 
sesses that  which  raises  it  immeasurably  above  every  other 
organism,  a  soul,  and  that  soul  is  the  altar. 

Yet  in  itself  this  is  but  a  simple  stone  of  small  size,  too 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

insignificant  in  point  of  mere  dimensions  to  serve  as  the  domi- 
nating motive  in  a  great  church.  Therefore,  we  surround  it 
with  accessories  of  great  richness,  that  serve  as  steps  from  the 
highest  elaboration  we  are  able  to  obtain  in  the  structure  of 
the  church  to  the  centre  of  all  things.  From  moulded  and 
carven  arches,  niches  with  their  statues,  and  traceried  windows 
glowing  with  color,  we  pass  to  the  intricate  fretwork  of  can- 
opied stalls,  finely  wrought  wainscot  and  walls  of  tapestry  and 
gilded  leather,  until  we  reach  the  reredos,  the  splendid  frame- 
work of  the  altar,  the  ultimate  richness  of  the  entire  church, 
where  is  concentrated  all  the  ornamentation  that  our  means 
afford.  Then  there  is  one  more  step  to  the  altar  itself ;  and 
where  a  church  is  treated  as  a  living  whole,  as  a  splendid  and 
perfect  organism,  everything  concentrates  in  a  point  of  the 
most  faultless  splendor,  in  altar  vestments  of  intricate  needle- 
work wrought  in  colors  and  gold,  in  candlesticks  of  goldsmith's 
work,  in  a  jewelled  cross,  and,  finally,  and  supremely,  in  that 
which  is  the  glowing  point  where  everything  centres  at  last, 
the  chalice. 

The  man  who,  when  he  thinks  of  designing  a  church,  does 
not  halt  abashed  and  ashamed  before  the  tremendous  responsi- 
bility that  confronts  him,  has  not  yet  learned  how  to  build  a 
church ;  and,  when  he  does  understand,  it  may  perhaps  happen 
that  he  will  meet  with  a  refusal  when  he  asks  permission  to  so 
design  his  work  that  it  may  have  that  organic  quality  that  lives. 
Only  too  often  he  will  find  certain  rules  arbitrarily  made  for 
him  which  will  bring  all  his  labors  to  naught.  Our  failure 
to  achieve  good  results  in  church  building  nowadays  is  very 
largely  due  to  our  inability  to  see  that  a  church  is  an  entity  in 
itself,  that  it  is  even  more  a  thing  of  immutable  law  than  a 
musical  composition,  that  it  must  be  conceived  as  a  whole,  and 
that  it  has  one  central  fact  that  inexorably  conditions  every- 

152 


LXXXVIII.     REREDOS,  ALL  SAINTS',  DORCHESTER. 


LXXXIX.    CHANCEL,  TRINITY  CHURCH,  BOSTON. 


XC.    TRINITY  CHURCH,  NEW  YORK. 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

thing  else,  to  which  all  is  subject,  by  which  all  is  tested;  and 
that  central  fact  is  the  altar. 

I  have  in  mind  one  church  that  is  a  good  example  of  the 
death  that  overtakes  a  work  of  ecclesiastical  art  when  the  prin- 
ciple of  unity,  when  the  idea  of  climax,  of  culmination,  is 
abandoned.  The  cost  was  enormous,  the  richness  of  decoration 
seldom  equalled  in  modern  times.  The  choir  and  sanctuary 
are  those  of  a  cathedral,  vast  and  imposing ;  and  in  the  midst, 
raised  on  a  single  step,  stands  a  black  walnut  table  of  small 
size,  innocent  of  vestments,  of  candles,  of  flowers,  without  a 
suggestion  of  reredos,  barren  even  of  the  Cross  of  our  Redemp- 
tion. The  whole  design  of  the  church  demands  a  lofty  altar 
under  a  towering  baldacchino,  with  marble  columns  supporting 
a  marble  dome.  With  this  the  fabric  would  live :  without  it,  it 
is  dead.     (See  Figure  LXXXIX.) 

For,  when  the  altar  and  its  reredos  are  raised  in  a  church, 
then  the  fabric  receives  the  breath  of  life.  I  am  speaking  archi- 
tecturally. As  an  architect,  I  have  no  concern  with  schools  of 
Churchmanship ;  but,  as  an  architect,  I  am  privileged  to  say 
that,  unless  the  altar  is  treated  with  due  regard,  unless  it  has 
its  proper  relation  to  the  rest  of  the  fabric,  then  every  effort  to 
obtain  a  church  that  is  a  living  thing  is  vain,  and  worse  than 
vain. 

For,  if  we  consider  a  church  as  an  organism,  we  shall  realize 
that  both  in  dimensions  and  in  degree  of  richness  there  is  a 
certain  proportion  that  must  be  observed.  The  height  of  the 
foot-pace  must  bear  a  certain  relation  to  the  height  of  the 
church,  the  length  of  the  altar  to  the  width  of  the  sanctuary, 
the  dimensions  of  the  reredos  to  the  length  of  the  church  and 
the  size  of  the  east  wall,  the  richness  of  decoration  to  that 
which  obtains  elsewhere  in  the  church.  It  is  not  a  question  of 
ritual :  it  is  a  question  of  art ;  and,  as  a  question  of  art,  it  is  also  a 

156 


XCI.  REREDOS,  MERTON  CHAPEL,  OXFORD. 


THE      ALTAR 

question  of  religion,  since  art,  in  the  service  of  the  Church,  is 
simply  art  as  an  incentive  to  religious  emotion. 


XCII.    TRIPTYCH,  CHURCH  AT  PENDLEBURY. 

Let  US  consider,  a  little  more  in  detail,  the  matter  ot  the  de- 
sign of  the  altar  and  its  reredos. 

Of  the  altar  there  is  very  little  to  be  said,  further  than  that 
it  must  be  of  stone  and  that  its  length  must  bear  its  proper  re- 
lation to  the  size  of  the  church.     For  the  principal  or  "  high 

IS9 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

altar  "  a  length  of  less  than  eight  feet  is  practically  out  of  the 
question,  since  this  length  can  hardly  be  less  than  a  third  of  the 
width  of  the  sanctuary  in  a  Gothic  church.  Neither  can  this 
length  well  exceed  twelve  feet,  since  the  height  is  fixed  at  three 
feet  four  inches ;  and  greater  length  gives  an  effect  of  unpleasant 
thinness.  The  depth  need  be  scarcely  more  than  two  feet.  The 
foot-pace  must  be  as  broad  as  possible,  particularly  if  the  altar  is 
ever  to  be  served  by  priest,  deacon,  and  sub-deacon.  In  this  case, 
also,  the  steps  must  be  sufficiently  wide  for  a  minister  to  stand  on 
each  of  them  easily.  More  than  five  steps  from  the  floor  of  the 
sanctuary  to  the  foot-pace  are  awkward ;  and,  if  greater  elevation 
is  necessary,  this  can  be  obtained  by  steps  in  the  choir  or,  better 
still,  when  the  sanctuary  is  deep  enough,  by  additional  steps  in- 
side the  communion  rail.  If  possible,  the  altar  should  stand  out 
from  the  reredos,  giving  a  space  behind  for  convenience  in  ar- 
ranging candlesticks  and  flowers  on  the  retables,  which  are,  of 
course,  a  part  of  the  reredos,  not  of  the  altar. 

Whether  the  altar  front  shall  be  rich  with  sculpture  and 
mosaic  and  precious  marbles,  or  whether  it  shall  be  quite  plain 
and  covered  with  embroidered  frontals,  is  a  matter  of  ritual,  not 
of  architecture. 

It  is  in  the  reredos  that  the  great  opportunity  for  splendor 
of  design  offers  itself,  and  the  possible  variations  are  almost 
endless.  The  earliest  form  is  that  of  the  baldacchino,  a  canopy 
of  some  kind  supported  on  columns;  but  when,  with  the  de- 
velopment of  a  purely  Christian  style  of  architecture,  the  altar 
found  its  place  against  the  east  wall,  this  form  was  abandoned 
for  that  of  the  great  screen  of  canopied  niches,  richly  sculptured 
panels,  and  fretted  pinnacles.  It  was  in  the  fifteenth  century, 
and  in  England,  that  this  wonderful  creation  of  the  mediaeval 
builders  reached  its  highest  development ;  and,  though  nearly  all 
were  shattered  and  wrecked  by  those  acting  under  the  authority 

1 60 


XCIII.    TRIPTYCH,  DOUGLASS  CASTLE. 


H.  Wilson,  Architect. 


XCIV.    REREDOS,  GLASGOW  CATHEDRAL. 


THE      ALTAR 

of  Henry  VIII.  and  Oliver  Cromwell,  many  have  been  well  re- 
stored, and  stand  as  monuments  of  an  age  that  was  great  in 
Christian  art. 

Probably  that  of  Winchester  cathedral  (Frontispiece)  is 
the  noblest  of  them  all,  both  in  its  general  conception  and  in 
its  detail ;  and  it  has  served  as  a  model  for  many  that  have  fol- 
lowed both  in  its  own  country  and  under  the  restoration  that  is 
taking  place  in  ours.  Roughly  speaking,  there  are  three  types 
of  reredos,  —  the  sculptured  screen  either  joined  to  the  east  wall 
or  detached  from  it  (Frontispiece  and  Figure  LXXXVIII.),  the 
niched  wall  where  the  entire  space  is  covered  with  decoration 
(Figure  XCI.),  and  the  triptych  (Figures  XCII.,  XCIII.).  In 
the  cases  of  the  screen  and  the  triptych  there  may  be  a  window 
above  or  behind  the  reredos.  Sometimes  the  latter  rises  well 
over  the  windows,  showing  the  flicker  of  colored  light  through 
its  pierced  tracery  and  carving;  and,  when  this  is  done,  the 
effect  may  be  most  beautiful.  The  niched  wall  is  seldom  found 
except  in  chapels,  and  is  too  lacking  in  composition  and  con- 
centration to  commend  itself.  The  triptych  is  also  more  ap- 
propriate for  side  chapels  than  for  any  high  altar,  since  its  size 
must  always  be  limited.  It  is  a  very  mobile  form,  however,  and 
offers  great  opportunities  for  the  most  splendid  effects  of  inlay, 
color,  and  gold.  It  may  easily  be  made  exceedingly  bad,  as  can 
be  seen  in  Figure  XCII.,  which  is  as  ill-designed  as  Figure 
XCIII.  is  nobly  conceived.  Of  course,  the  triptych  demands 
good  pictures ;  and  religious  painting  is  so  nearly  a  lost  art  now- 
adays that  it  is  almost  out  of  the  question. 

The  sculptured  screen,  some  modification  of  the  typical 
Winchester  screen,  remains  the  best  and  safest  form;  but  it 
must  be  carefully  designed,  and  with  great  gravity  and  restraint, 
for  it  will  tend  to  the  condition  of  the  frivolous,  "  gingerbready  " 
follies  that  at  present  seem  to  affect  the  altar  designs  of  the 

163 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

Roman  Church.  Just  how  to  strike  a  balance  between  the 
necessary  architectural  quality  and  the  quality  of  sculpture  is  a 
difficult  task.  The  tendency  is  apt  to  be  too  strong  in  either 
direction.  In  Figure  XCIV.  the  effect  is  thoroughly  bad,  just 
because  the  whole  thing  is  too  coldly  architectural :  it  is  a  struct- 
ural episode  with  no  relation  to  the  altar  or  anything  else, 
Figure  XCV.  errs  in  just  the  other  direction :  it  is  trivial,  and 
stamped  with  the  mark  of  the  wedding  confection.  The  reredos 
shown  in  the  frontispiece  remains  the  perfect  type,  for  it  is  at 
the  same  time  architectural  and  "  sculpturesque."  Its  propor- 
tions are  faultless,  its  composition  masterly,  its  arrangement  of 
light  and  shade  as  perfect  as  anything  left  us  from  mediaeval 
times.  Now  that  the  long  empty  cross  has  received  its  Figure 
of  our  Lord,  and  the  interpolated  picture  has  given  place  to 
the  original  range  of  small  statues,  the  reredos,  completely 
restored,  takes  its  place  as  one  of  the  most  perfect  achieve- 
ments of  Christian  architecture. 

Another  form  of  reredos,  and  one  seen  but  infrequently,  is 
that  which  has  the  screen  form,  but  is  made  of  wood  and  dec- 
orated with  the  color  and  gold  of  the  triptych.  That  in  the 
chapel  of  St.  Paul's  School,  Concord,  N.H.,  by  Mr.  Vaughan 
(Figure  XCV  I.),  is  undoubtedly  the  finest  of  these ;  and  its  effect 
of  sonorous  color  and  splendid  light  is  most  satisfying. 

Where  by  reason  of  the  necessarily  great  cost  a  reredos  is 
temporarily  out  of  the  question  the  dossal  gives  the  requisite 
emphasis  and  the  effect  of  honor  that  are  indispensable.  The 
dossal  that  consists  of  a  flat  curtain  of  vertical  strips  of  alternat- 
ing brocade  and  some  plain  and  rich  material,  a  projecting 
canopy  or  "  lambrequin,"  and  wings  of  a  stuff  somewhat  lighter 
in  weight,  is  by  far  the  the  best  form.  A  dossal  that  hangs  in 
folds  has  too  much  the  effect  of  upholstery,  and  it  lacks  the 
dignity  so  requisite.     Without  the  projecting  canopy  the  effect 

164 


XCV.    ALTAR  AND  REREDOS,  ST.  PATRICK'S  CATHEDRAL,  NEW  YORK. 


XCVI. 


Henry  Vaughn,  Architect. 
REREDOS,  CHAPEL  OF  ST.  PAUL'S  SCHOOL,  CONCORD,  N.H. 


THE      ALTAR 

is  apt  to  be  too  flat  and  bald.  Of  course  the  dossal  is  suscep- 
tible of  the  utmost  enrichment  in  the  way  of  embroidery,  if  this 
is  desired.  Where  a  reredos  that  is  absolutely  right  in  richness 
and  elaboration  is  impossible,  it  is  far  better  to  rely  on  some 
form  of  dossal  than  to  compromise  on  a  small,  insignificant,  or 
barren  makeshift.  By  the  very  nature  of  its  place  and  its  func- 
tion a  reredos  must  be  rich  and  splendid,  the  best  of  its  kind; 
and  the  best  costs  very  much,  which  is  not  true  of  fabrics 
where  a  few  hundred  dollars  will  obtain  something  that  is 
really  precious  in  itself. 

Of  the  frontals  and  superfrontals  it  may  be  said  that  the 
majority  of  modern  examples  err  in  that  they  are  too  often  con- 
ceived simply  as  pieces  of  embroidery,  not  as  integral  parts  of 
an  architectural  ensemble.  One  constantly  sees  elaborate  pieces 
of  embroidery  where  the  work  is  faultless,  where  even  the  de- 
tail of  the  design  is  good,  but  where  just  this  lack  of  architect- 
ural quality  is  fatal.  Strong  lines,  broad  masses,  powerful 
color  composition,  are  all  most  necessary ;  and  without  these 
qualities  faithful  and  elaborate  workmanship  and  precious 
materials  go  for  nothing.  Some  of  the  very  best  examples  are 
simply  intelligent  combinations  of  panels  of  heavy  brocade  with 
orphreys  of  plain  velvet ;  and  this  is  just  because  the  brocade  or 
damask  has  the  formality  of  pattern  and  the  decorative  design 
that  are  imperative. 

But  this  matter  of  ecclesiastical  embroidery  is  one  that  should 
be  treated  in  a  separate  book,  the  subject  is  so  involved  and 
elaborate.  I  speak  of  it  here  simply  from  a  desire  to  emphasize 
the  fact  that  it  must  of  necessity  be  conceived  in  relation  to  its 
position,  that  it  must  be  treated  as  a  part  of  an  architectural 
or,  rather,  artistic  composition. 

The  same  is  true  of  the  altar  brasses,  crosses,  candlesticks, 
and  vases,  and  of  the  sacred  vessels.     It  is  almost  impossible 

169 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

to  get  the  former  in  any  really  good  design  unless  they  are  es- 
pecially made.  They  are  too  often  crude  in  design,  tawdry  in 
effect,  and  rough  in  workmanship.  The  common  trade-stuff  of 
"spun"  brass,  thin  and  cheap  but  brilliantly  lacquered,  is  just  as 
bad  as  it  can  possibly  be.  It  is  strange  that  people  do  not 
understand  that  anything  that  touches  the  altar  or  is  used  in 
honoring  it  must  be  absolutely  as  good,  both  in  workmanship 
and  design,  as  man  can  create.  Cheapness  and  show  are 
banished  forever  from  the  sanctuary. 


XCVIII.     TRIPTYCH   IN   PAINTED   PLASTER. 


R.  Anning  Bell. 


170 


THE   CATHEDRAL 

As  the  altar  is  the  centre,  the  culmination,  of  each  individual 
church,  the  focus  of  honor,  where  all  the  powers  of  art  concen- 
trate to  exalt  into  visible  dignity  that  which  is  in  itself  the  su- 
preme wonder  of  the  universe,  so  is  the  cathedral  the  centre  and 
culmination  of  the  whole  Church.  It  is  the  embodiment  of  no 
greater  glory  than  that  which  makes  the  least  of  chapels  a 
Tabernacle  of  God ;  but  it  is  a  certain  sign  of  the  unity  and 
dominion  of  the  visible  Church,  and  as  the  place  of  the  cathe- 
dra of  a  bishop  it  acquires  a  certain  dignity  supplementary  to 
that  which  marks  the  parish  church.  But  it  is  more  than  this: 
a  cathedral  is  not  only  the  chief  church  of  a  diocese,  the  bishop's 
church,  it  is  also  the  embodiment  of  the  Church  militant,  the 
manifestation  of  the  visible  Church,  the  type  and  symbol  of  the 
Church  triumphant.  Its  significance  is  more  than  official,  its 
importance  other  than  administrative.  It  is  the  church  not 
only  of  the  bishop,  but  of  every  soul  within  his  jurisdiction  ;  it 
is  the  common  meeting-ground  of  all,  the  centre  of  light  and 
education  and  evangelical  energy  ;  it  is  the  heart  and  brain  of 
the  ecclesiastical  organism.  Structurally  it  is  the  work  of  gen- 
erations of  men  striving  to  show  forth  in  some  sort  the  glory  of 
the  heavenly  city,  the  power  of  the  Church  triumphant,  the 
majesty  and  dominion  of  the  kingdom  of  God. 

It  is  true  that  any  church  where  the  bishop  establishes  his 
throne  becomes  ipso  facto  a  cathedral ;  but  the  cathedral  idea 
is  more  than  this.  A  parish  church,  even  if  of  great  size  and 
splendor,  does  not  fulfil  the  requirement.  It  may  serve  as  a 
pro-cathedral ;  but  unless  it  is  conceived  architecturally  on  ca- 
thedral lines,  unless  it  begins  to  grow  glorious  through  an  endless 
series  of  benefactions,  unless  it  becomes  indeed  a  centre  of  vi- 

171 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

tality  for  the  whole  diocese,  it  remains  but  a  pro-cathedral  still. 
For  the  cathedral  is  more  the  expression  of  an  idea  than  a 
function ;  and,  while  it  must  be  adapted  to  the  latter,  it  must  be 
conceived  and  worked  out  with  a  very  careful  regard  to  the 
former  quality,  which  is  very  evidently  of  equal  importance. 
If  we  consider  the  cathedrals  of  the  past,  in  whatever  country 
they  may  be  found,  we  shall  see  how  almost  invariably  the  old 
builders  worked  with  this  thought  in  mind,  and,  if  they  labored 
unconsciously,  were  inevitably  driven  by  impulse  to  attain  the 
same  ends.  During  the  whole  period  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
when  the  Church  reached  her  highest  degree  of  development 
and  power,  the  cathedrals  were  designed  in  a  fashion  that  dif- 
ferentiated them  completely  from  parish  churches,  however 
large  and  gorgeous  those  may  have  been,  while  they  bore  no 
close  resemblance  to  the  abbey  churches  and  monastery  chap- 
els. The  cathedral  was  a  special  structure,  with  its  own  laws, 
its  own  qualities ;  and  as  such  it  was  conceived. 

Here  and  there,  of  course,  there  were  exceptions  to  this 
rule ;  and  we  sometimes  find  the  cathedral  to  be  but  an  insig- 
nificant structure,  the  chief  church  in  the  city  but  the  chapel  of 
some  civil  or  ecclesiastical  authority,  as  in  Venice  or  Rome ;  but, 
wherever  this  occurs,  there  was  some  special  and  local  reason, 
the  normal  condition  was  one  where  the  cathedral  was  not  only 
the  crowning  glory  of  the  diocese,  but  of  the  civil  State  as 
well. 

It  was  during  the  Middle  Ages,  while  the  Gothic,  or  Chris- 
tian, style  of  architecture  was  supreme,  that  the  cathedral  idea 
received  its  fullest  development;  and,  therefore,  the  greatest  ca- 
thedrals are  fortunately  in  this  style.  The  Roman  basilicas 
that  preceded  them  were  prevented  by  the  hampering  conditions 
of  their  style  from  expressing  the  great  and  growing  idea  to  the 
full,  and  the  Romanesque  temples  that  followed  were  equally 

172 


XCIX.    DURHAM. 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

handicapped.  St.  Peter's  in  Rome,  though  not  a  diocesan  ca- 
thedral, and  St.  Paul's  in  London,  are  not  the  structures  we 
turn  to  for  the  most  perfect  embodiment  of  the  idea  of  the 
Church  in  its  glory,  but  rather  Chartres  and  Amiens,  Seville 
and  Bourges,  Durham  and  York  and  Gloucester  and  Lincoln 
(See  Figures  XCIX.,  C,  CI.,  and  CII.).  San  Marco  seems 
but  what  it  was  designed  to  be,  a  gorgeous  and  wonderful 
chapel,  the  Renaissance  edifices  are  but  theatrical  and  preten- 
tious affectations,  while  many  of  the  small  cathedrals  of  Eng- 
land are  such  only  by  virtue  of  the  fiat  of  the  bishop, —  by 
intention  and  in  effect  they  are  but  parish  churches  or  monas- 
tery chapels ;  but  the  real  cathedrals,  the  awful  fabrics  of  chis- 
elled stone,  with  their  solemn  and  cavernous  interiors,  the 
monuments  of  Christian  civilization  from  the  eleventh  to  the 
sixteenth  centuries,  are,  and  must  forever  remain,  unmatched 
evidences  of  the  dignity  and  the  dominion  of  the  visible  Church, 
of  the  imperishable  glories  of  the  Church  triumphant. 

When  the  Church  in  England  began  to  enter  into  her  new 
life  after  the  dark  ages  that  came  upon  her  with  the  Civil  Wars 
and  the  resulting  Commonwealth,  it  was  the  administrative  as- 
pect of  the  edifice  that  asserted  itself  rather  than  that  higher  sym- 
bolical quality ;  and,  therefore,  it  is  natural,  of  course,  that  this 
same  idea  should  have  obtained  here  in  America.  "  The  bishop's 
church,"  —  this  was  at  first  all  it  was  held  to  be, —  a  parish 
church  selected  from  among  those  of  the  diocesan  city  and 
made  into  a  cathedral  by  the  addition  of  a  throne  ;  or  else  a  new 
structure  a  little  richer  and  more  elaborate,  with  certain  remi- 
niscent suggestions  of  the  English  prototype,  only  made  small 
and  ineffectual.  This  idea  was  wholly  wrong,  but  it  was  only 
temporary ;  and,  since  the  cathedral  at  Albany  was  projected  and 
begun,  there  has  been  no  excuse  for  any  failure  to  work  on  the 
ancient  lines.     One  may  criticise  the  style  of   Albany,  perhaps, 

174 


C.    LINCOLN. 


CI.    GLOUCESTER. 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

as  one  must  criticise  the  style  of  the  New  York  cathedral ;  but 
the  impelling  motive  was  right,  and  the  name  of  the  bishop  of 
Albany  will  always  be  remembered  as  that  of  the  prelate  who 
was  primarily  responsible  for  the  introduction  into  the  Church 
in  America  of  the  true  cathedral  idea.  There  is  no  longer  any 
excuse  for  such  blunders  as  the  cathedral  at  Garden  City.  In 
future,  whatever  is  done  must  be  done  right. 

And  what  is  this  "  right "  ?  We  have  but  to  look  back 
through  England  and  France,  and  we  shall  see.  I  have  already 
tried  to  indicate  the  spiritual  significance  of  the  cathedral.  How 
shall  we  best  work  this  out  in  visible  form  ? 

First  of  all,  by  realizing  that  a  cathedral  is  a  structure  to  be 
erected  for  all  time  and  for  an  entire  diocese ;  that  it  must  be 
dependent  in  no  respect  on  temporary  conditions,  but  that  it 
must  be  so  planned  that,  as  years  go  by,  something  may  be 
added,  until  a  century  hence,  perhaps,  the  fabric  will  stand  com- 
pleted,—  so  far,  that  is,  as  its  mere  structure  is  concerned.  It 
must  always  remain  a  nucleus  for  constant  additions  of  chapel 
and  tomb  and  oratory,  windows,  statues,  and  pictures.  The 
cathedral  is  never  finished ;  it  is  a  record  of  advancing  years 
forever  without  term.  To  build  temporarily,  to  abandon  and 
rebuild  elsewhere,  is  to  forsake  the  whole  idea  of  the  cathedral 
as  a  type  of  the  everlasting  Church.  Let  us  suppose  that  some 
one  of  the  smaller  dioceses  reaches  a  point  where  a  cathedral 
is  desired.  There  is  available  the  sum  of,  perhaps,  ^100,000. 
What  would  be  the  ordinary  course }  To  build  as  large  an 
edifice,  complete  except  for  towers  and  decoration,  as  could  be 
obtained  for  the  money.  And  this  would  be  a  negation  of  the 
whole  cathedral  idea.  Rather  should  this  be  done.  Lay  out 
roughly  the  scheme  of  a  vast  and  imposing  structure,  then  be- 
gin one  small  section  and  finish  this  up  to  a  point  where  it 
could  be  used,  if,  as  with  us  is  almost  inevitable,  the  cathedral 

176 


THE      CATHEDRAL 

is  also  a  parish  church.  If  there  is  money  enough,  build  the 
great  choir,  or  carry  the  walls  up  part  way,  putting  on  a  tempo- 
rary roof.  If  this  is  too  much,  then  build  simply  the  crypt  and 
use  that  for  the  time  being.  "  But  such  a  structure  would  be 
ugly,  an  eyesore,  perhaps  for  years."  What  of  that  ?  You  are 
not  erecting  a  church  for  your  own  admiration,  for  the  self-sat- 
isfaction of  the  worshippers  therein.  You  are  laying  the  first 
stones  of  a  witness  to  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  foundations  of 
a  mighty  temple,  always  more  honorable  than  the  complete 
walls  of  a  third-rate  fabric.  In  the  unhewn  stones  and  blunted 
walls  of  Albany,  in  the  crags  of  monstrous  masonry  of  New 
York,  there  is  glory  and  honor;  but  in  the  small  trivialities, 
the  cast-iron  expedients,  of  Garden  City  there  is  nothing  of 
either  of  these. 

If  it  is  true  that  a  parish  church  is  only  secondarily  an  au- 
ditorium, and  that  its  greatness  as  a  house  of  worship  must  not 
be  sacrificed  to  its  requirements  as  a  house  of  instruction,  it  is 
also  true  that  a  cathedral  is  not  even  secondarily  an  auditorium. 
We  may  compromise  in  a  parish  church,  but  in  a  cathedral  not 
at  all.  If  we  build  aright, —  that  is,  if  we  build  in  the  Christian 
style  and  as  the  men  of  the  Middle  Ages  built, —  we  shall  have 
good  acoustics,  and  this  is  all  we  can  ask ;  to  ruin  a  fabric  as  a 
temple  of  God  wrought  with  all  the  strength  of  exalted  art  by 
trying  to  give  every  seat  a  clear  view  of  the  pulpit,  or  by  aban- 
doning aisles  and  chapels  and  great  piers  of  masonry,  is  to  be 
guilty  of  great  foolishness.  All  that  a  parish  church  must  be 
holds  in  the  case  of  a  cathedral,  and  more,  immeasurably  more. 
The  qualities  of  grandeur  and  sublimity,  of  mystery  and  awe, 
of  shadow  and  silence,  of  eternal  durability  and  wealth  of  orna- 
mentation paid  for  by  willing  sacrifice, —  all  these  things  must 
be  almost  as  the  corner-stone :  they  must  exist,  or  the  labor  is 
in  vain.     To  obtain  them,  we  must  abandon  some  questions  of 

179 


CHURCH      BUILDING 


cm.    AMIENS. 


practicability,  of  economy  of  space ;  but  such  action  needs  no 
defence :  he  who  would  question  it  has  failed  to  lay  hold  of  the 
meaning  of  the  Church. 

A  cathedral  is  not  a  structural  necessity,  it  is  not  a  measure 
of  convenience.  Its  justification  is  higher:  it  is  the  most  highly 
evolved  and  the  most  perfect  of  the  fabrics  conceived  by  man, 


THE      CATHEDRAL 

reared  as  a  standing  testimony  of  the  impulses  of  reverence, 
faith,  and  devotion  that  animate  the  Church.  It  is  untouched 
by  materialism  and  commercialism  :  it  is  purely  ideal ;  and,  as  in 
the  past,  so  now  it  is  the  crowning  work  of  man  dedicated  to 
the  enduring  glory  of  God. 

There  is  no  reason  why  the  smallest  diocese  should  not  lay 
the  first  stones  of  the  greatest  cathedral :  numbers  do  not  count, 
but  faith  and  devotion.  The  good  cathedrals  of  the  Middle 
Ages  stand,  many  of  them,  in  little  villages,  or  at  least  in  small 
cities  that  have  never  been  larger  and  expect  no  greater  future. 
Such,  for  example,  are  Ely  and  Peterborough,  Wells  and  Salis- 
bury and  Gloucester;  and  they  are  the  more  wonderful  for  the 
very  fact  that  they  do  stand  in  such  places.  They  are  beacons 
of  salvation,  enduring  monuments  of  centuries  of  living  piety ; 
and  they  rise  from  the  midst  of  clustering  cottages  or  village 
shops,  cities  of  God,  set  indeed  on  a  hill,  shining  with  a  light 
that  shall  not  be  hid. 

Before  we  consider  the  matter  of  the  contemporary  cathe- 
dral, let  us  look  at  one  or  two  of  the  most  triumphant  monu- 
ments of  the  past,  fhey  are  the  type  that  we  must  follow  in 
every  way.  The  Church  has  not  changed,  nor  the  requirements 
of  a  cathedral ;  nor,  so  far  as  we  in  this  country  are  concerned, 
has  the  race  been  so  modified  as  to  demand  new  modes  of 
expression.  The  Church  in  England  and  her  architectural 
style  are  our  own,  and  none  can  deprive  us  of  our  birthright. 

There  are,  then,  two  great  types  of  the  Gothic  cathedral, 
the  French  and  the  English.  All  the  others  —  Spanish,  Ger- 
man, and  Flemish  —  are  only  modifications  of  the  original 
French  type.  Each  method  has  its  own  virtues,  its  own  de- 
fects. The  French  cathedral  stands  first  in  point  of  sublimity 
of  conception  and  unity  of  effect,  also  in  overwhelming  grand- 
eur, in  emotional  power,  and  in  the  perfect  working  out  from 

i8i 


CHURCH      BUILDING 


a  structural  standpoint  of  the  great  Christian  style  of  architect- 
ure. The  English  cathedral  stands  first  in  point  of  spontane- 
ity, of  quiet  sincerity,  of  personal  devotion.     Rheims,  Amiens, 


CIV.     EXETER. 


Chartres,  while  unmatched  in  their  awful  glory,  have  yet  some- 
thing of  pride,  even  self-consciousness.  They  proclaim  rather 
the  infinite  majesty  and  the  royal  dominion  of  God  than  the 
loving-kindness  that  is  declared  by  Winchester,  Exeter,  Lin- 
coln, and  Wells.     (See   Figures  C,  CV.,  and  CIV.)     I  do  not 

182 


THE      CATHEDRAL 

mean  this  as  a  criticism  of  the  French  type,  but  only  as  a 
differentiation.  From  an  abstract  architectural  standpoint 
the  French  cathedrals  are  far  more  perfect  than  the  English ; 


CV.    WINCHESTER. 


but  in  their  very  pride  of  acknowledged  power,  in  their  dazzling 
perfection,  there  is  something  that  incites  almost  foreboding. 
Consummate  achievement  treads  the  perilous  edge  of  catas- 
trophe, and  in  the  very  faultlessness  of  Amiens  lies  the  threat 
of  the  ignominy  of  Beauvais. 

183 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

In  England,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  no  trace  of  the  pride 
that  goeth  before  a  fall.  The  builders  of  the  cathedrals  were 
not  masterly  men.    They  dared  not  pile  their  stones  to  the  dizzy 


CVI.    BEAUVAIS  — EXTERIOR  OF  CHOIR. 

heights  that  lured  the  French.  They  shrank  from  cutting 
away  the  supports  until  the  stone  vaults  hung  breathlessly  in 
the  air.  They  did  not  understand  how  to  dispose  of  columns, 
how  to  trace  the  lines  of  aisles  and  chapels,  how  to  curve  their 
arches  and  vaults  as    best    to  obtain    the  most  awe-inspiring 

184 


THE      CATHEDRAL 

effects  of  shadow  and  fluctuant  light  and  misty,  bewildering 
perspective.  And,  just  because  they  did  not,  they  often 
achieved  a  success  equal  to,  if  not  beyond,  that  of  their  more 
self-conscious  rivals  on  the  Continent.  Moreover,  while  the 
French  cathedrals,  even  if  built  during  several  centuries,  show 
yet  a  certain  unity  of  design,  those  of  England  are  usually 
without  the  least  architectural  consistency ;  for  they  show  the 
mutations  of  style,  the  vicissitudes  of  society,  the  march  of  his- 
tory, the  personality  of  their  builders,  in  a  most  eminent  de- 
gree. France  is  full  of  matchless  architectural  monuments, 
but  England's  whole  history  is  writ  large  in  her  churches. 

It  is  fortunate  for  her  that  this  is  so.  Wherever  we  find 
a  church  complete  in  any  one  given  style,  as  Salisbury,  for  ex- 
ample (Figure  CVIII.),  we  find  comparative  failure.  Here  the 
plan  is  almost  beyond  criticism,  the  general  grouping  and 
composition  finely  conceived ;  and  yet  the  result  is  thin  and 
dry  and  poor,  and  Salisbury  stands  as  one  of  the  least  good  of 
English  cathedrals.  This  is  partly  due  to  the  fact  that  the 
style,  "  Early  English,"  was  not  one  of  any  great  degree  of 
beauty,  being  crude,  hard,  and  undeveloped,  and  partly  to  the 
offices  of  the  unspeakable  Wyatt,  who  in  the  eighteenth  century 
swept  away  every  trace  of  subsequent  additions  in  the  shape 
of  chapels,  chantries,  screens,  and  tombs,  leaving  the  fabric  for- 
lorn in  all  its  nakedness.  But  the  fact  remains  that  never 
have  the  English  achieved  the  greatness  of  idea  that  impelled 
the  French,  where,  on  the  other  hand,  they  have  wrought  into 
enduring  stone  a  personality  that  is  very  precious.  Before 
Chartres  one  is  dumb  with  awe,  and  a  little  afraid ;  but  Durham 
and  Peterborough,  though  the  most  solemn  and  imposing  of 
the  cathedrals  of  England,  create  only  feelings  of  love,  kinship, 
and  personal  affection. 

In  the  French  type  the  general  scheme  is  of  the  simplest,  the 

185 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

component  parts  equally  simple.  The  root  is  composed  of  the 
nave  and  transepts  crossing  and  forming  a  Latin  cross.  Out- 
side this  comes  an  aisle  completely  surrounding  the  main  fabric, 
and  at  the  east  end  a  further  sequence  of  polygonal  chapels 


-■■■.I  ■  'Hfl; '  ■i-l"-fHi"'*^"t;"fc^^ 
((■u  HI  1*1  i  n  i  i  ■■ 


CVII.     SALISBURY  — PLAN. 


forming  the  chevet.  Occasionally  these  chapels  are  continued 
down  each  side  of  the  nave ;  and  now  and  then,  as  in  Cologne, 
this  line  of  subsidiary  chapels  becomes  a  perfect  aisle.  The 
extreme  contour  of  the  plan  is  perfectly  simple,  symmetrical, 
and  unbroken.  (Figure  CIX.)  The  entire  fabric  is  vaulted  in 
stone ;  and  the  thrust  of  these  vaults  is  received  by  flying  but- 
tresses, made:  necessary  by  the  fact  that  the  system  of  construc- 

t86 


evil  I.     SALISBURY. 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

tion,  which  is  that  of  concentrated  loads,  renders  solid  but- 
tresses impossible.  The  height  of  the  central  nave  is  from 
three  to  four  times  the  width.  Viewed  simply  as  an  architect- 
ural product,  the  French  cathedral  is  seen  to  be  the  most  mar- 


IW 

1 

■I 

\^fi> 

m 

|VW\ 

)Rn 

axl 

ilx 

^r^X^ 

\AbsIi 

^s^s 

1 

'   X 

<  ><  X^ 

>^ 

j^ 

1 

Cologne  Cathedral,  Germany.    i.lSth  Century. 
CIX.    COLOGNE  — PLAN. 


vellous  work  of  man.  It  is  almost  a  living  organism :  every  stone, 
every  arch,  every  foot  of  wall,  is  designed  with  an  almost  un- 
imaginable degree  of  scientific  knowledge.  Each  part  has  its 
function.  Nothing  is  wasted,  nothing  is  unnecessary.  It  grows 
like  a  living  thing,  and  stands  unmatched  among  the  material 
products  of  man's  intelligence. 

And  the  resulting  effect  from  an  emotional  and  artistic 

i88 


ex.    NOTRE  DAME— WEST  FRONT. 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

standpoint  is  only  what  must  follow  from  anything  conceived  in 
this  masterly  fashion.  One  kneels  in  Chartres,  Amiens,  Rheims, 
dumb  and  breathless,  awed  by  the  indescribable  majesty,  dazed 
by  the  triumph  of  the  human  mind ;  and  yet  —  is  it  the  quicken- 
ing of  a  national  soul,  the  answering  of    blood  to  blood,  the 


CXI.    LINCOLN  — PLAN. 


thrill  of  indestructible  kinship  ?  Something  of  all  of  these, 
perhaps ;  for  it  is  not  to  be  denied  that  from  the  awful  majesty 
of  France  one  turns  to  the  brave,  humble,  struggling  sincerity 
of  England  as  a  son  to  his  forgotten  patrimony. 

And  this  is  well.  We  may  admit  the  supremacy  of  the 
French  Gothic  cathedrals,  but  they  are  not  for  us.  The  English 
is  ours ;  for  we  two  are  one  people,  with  one  history  and  one 
blood. 

igo 


THE      CATHEDRAL 

I  do  not  mean  that  we  must  be  imitative  or  archaeological. 
We  may  take  what  we  will  from  France  or  Spain  or  Flanders ; 


CXII.     CANTERBURY. 


but  let  us  apply  it  all  to  the  English  root,  so  creating  a  thing 
that  is  racial  and  —  our  own. 

For  I  believe  that  in  the  varied  plans  of  the  English  cathe- 
drals is  the  germ  of  even  greater  things  than  have  been  wrought 
in  France.  The  French  cathedral  is  Greek  in  its  perfect  sim- 
plicity of  idea,  mediaeval  in  the  infinite  variety  and  richness  of 

191 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

its  detail.  In  England  was  conceived  an  idea  more  original, 
more  supple,  capable  of  far  greater  mobility  of  treatment.  Dur- 
ham, Lincoln,  and  Salisbury  are  good  examples.  (See  Figures 
CVII.  and  CXI.) 

Inadequate,  chaotic,  undeveloped,  there  is  yet  visible  a  possi- 
bility that  is  almost  unlimited.  It  was  never  fully  worked  out. 
It  is  still  rudimentary,  but  —  it  exists.  The  central  and  dominat- 
ing tower  is  a  logical  development,  full  of  vast  possibilities.  The 
square-ended  choir  makes  possible  effects  unattainable  on  an 
apsidal  plan.  The  secondary,  eastern  transept  is  a  stroke  of 
genius ;  the  multiplication  of  chapels  and  chantries,  the  group- 
ing of  cloister,  chapter  house,  and  subsidiary  buildings,  full  of 
wonderful  opportunities.  Then,  again,  in  England  was  con- 
ceived that  marvellous  thing,  fan-vaulting ;  while  only  there  did 
Gothic  succeed  in  taking  to  itself  certain  qualities  of  the  good, 
early  Renaissance,  and  in  assimilating  them. 

Let  us  admit  at  once  that  England  never  succeeded  in  thor- 
oughly working  out  the  cathedral  idea  on  the  lines  she  had 
indicated  for  herself.  Externally  good,  the  central  tower  was 
never  wholly  right  inside;  and  the  only  attempt  at  a  new  solu- 
tion of  the  problem,  Ely,  was  not  a  success. 

Unity  yielded,  and  historic  continuity,  and  the  Reformation 
destroyed  all  artistic  and  religious  development  just  at  the  time 
when  there  seemed  a  chance  that  a  great,  consistent  English 
cathedral  might  come  into  being.  The  Chapel  of  Henry  VII. 
is  a  suggestion  of  what  might  have  been,  but,  like  nearly  all 
English  work,  only  a  suggestion. 

Gothic  in  England  was  a  living  and  constantly  developing 
style.  It  was  full  of  immense  vitality,  personality.  Its  growth 
was  suddenly  arrested,  and  then  all  artistic  labor  ceased.  The 
sequence  is  once  more  constituted,  and  it  is  for  us  to  take  up 
the  work  once  abandoned  until  better  days. 

192 


CXIII.     ALBANY  CATHEDRAL. 


CXIV.     COMPETITIVE  DESIGN,  NEW  YORK  CATHEDRAL. 


THE      CATHEDRAL 

In  the  modern  cathedral,  the  fabric  of  to-day,  built  in  a  new 
land  as  the  chief  church  and  seat  of  the  bishop's  throne,  in 
some  diocese  that  counts  at  best  but  little  more  than  a  century 
since  its  foundation,  we  find,  as  I  have  already  said,  the  most 
perfect  opportunity  that  ever  presents  itself  to  an  architect.  I 
have  tried  to  show  why  church  building  is  the  most  noble,  the 
most  exalted,  and  the  most  perfect  of  the  functions  of  architect- 
ure ;  and  it  follows  of  course  from  this  that  the  cathedral,  the 
culminating  point  of  the  structural  church,  is  the  problem  that 
possesses  the  greatest  possibilities.  It  is  a  task  before  which 
every  man  must  halt  abashed.  Not  only  must  the  result  of  his 
labors  do  honor  to  the  Church  herself,  but  as  well  it  must  find 
itself  contrasted  with  the  triumphant  monuments  of  the  great 
past ;  and  thus  far  the  contrast  has  always  resulted  to  the  dis- 
credit of  the  modern  work.  In  this  lies  failure  and  reproach, 
not  only  to  architecture,  but  to  the  Church  herself.  Yet,  con- 
fronted by  reiterated  failure,  the  architect  must  still  go  on, 
striving  always  for  something  better,  looking  always  toward  the 
possible  time  when  at  last  the  restoration  of  civilization  may 
make  possible  the  production  through  him  of  that  temple  that 
shall  mark  a  corresponding  restoration  of  the  continuity  that 
has  so  long  been  broken. 

It  is  not  an  easy  task.  Three  centuries  of  architectural  dark 
ages  have  left  us  rather  blind  and  helpless,  knowing  not  where 
to  turn  ;  and,  without  disrespect,  we  may  say  with  equal  truth 
that  the  same  three  centuries  have  resulted  in  removing  from 
the  Church  herself  the  impulse  and  the  wisdom  that  might 
otherwise  have  directed  us.  The  cathedral  of  Albany  was  at 
least  conceived  on  the  right  lines,  but  this  was  due  rather  to 
the  incentive  of  one  prelate  than  to  a  general  recrudescence  of 
the  right  idea  throughout  the  Church.  When  the  competition 
for  the  New  York  cathedral  was  held,  we  saw  at  once  how  blind 

195 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

were  the  gropings,  both  of  the  Church  and  of  the  architects. 
Practically,  none  of  the  designs  submitted  showed  the  least 
appreciation  of  the  cathedral  idea ;  and  the  variation  was  from 
the  dry  and  coldly  mechanical  (Figure  CXIV.)  through  the 
crudely  unintelligent  (Figure  CX  V.)  to  the  mad  and  fantastically 


CXV.    COMPETITIVE  DESIGN,   NEW  YORK  CATHEDRAL. 

impossible  (Figure  CXVI.).  It  was  the  chance  of  a  century,  and 
none  came  forward  to  seize  upon  it  to  the  glory  of  the  Church 
and  to  his  own  immortality. 

This  experience  in  America  was  only  a  repetition  of  that  in 
England,  and  it  had  far  greater  excuse ;  for,  when  there  was  a 
project  of  building  a  cathedral  in  Liverpool,  and  a  competition 
was  held,  there  were  great  church  builders  in  England,  and  yet 
no  designs  remotely  approached  meeting  the  demands  of  the 

196 


THE      CATHEDRAL 


situation,  though  of  course  the  general  average  was  much  higher 
than  with  us.     Very  wisely,  the  Liverpool  project  was  dropped. 


Halsey  Wood. 
CXVI.    COMPETITIVE  DESIGN,  NEW  YORK  CATHEDRAL. 


Were  it  to  be  taken  up  again  now,  the  results  would  be  very 
different. 

The  only  two  important  modern  cathedrals  in  Great  Britain 
are  those    of    Truro    (Figure   CXVI  I.)    and    Belfast  (Figure 

197 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

CXVIII.);  and  both,  while  conceived  in  dignity  and  with  some- 
thing of  the  cathedral  idea,  are  yet  dry  and  archaeological,  both 
attempted  restorations  of  dead  styles, —  Truro  of  the  Early  Eng- 
lish, Belfast  of  the  Decorated.  Neither  shows  a  touch  of  vitality 
in  point  of  architectural  style ;  and,  therefore,  both  of  them  either 


CXVII.    TRURO  CATHEDRAL. 


prove  the  same  lack  in  the  Church  or  else  they  are  slanderous 
misrepresentations. 

Of  course,  they  date  from  some  years  back,  and  are  no  proof 
of  what  might  be  possible  now,  and  the  same  is  true  of  Albany 
and  New  York ;  but,  while  we  have  a  new  confidence  in  Eng- 
land based  on  the  work  of  such  powerful  and  well-advised  men 
as  Bodley  &  Garner,  Paley  &  Austin,  and  Leonard  Stokes, 
have  we  that  assurance  here  ?     Certainly  not,  if  we  are  to  judge 

198 


THE      CATHEDRAL 

from  the  two  designs  once  tentatively  put  out  for  the  ultimately 
possible  Washington  cathedral,  one  of  which  was  actually 
Roman  Renaissance  in  style,  the  other  an  archaeological  French 


CXVIII.     BELFAST  CATHEDRAL. 


Gothic,  both  vacant  of  any  hint  of  the  history  and  the  nature 
of  the  Anglican  Communion  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  Amer- 
ica. Yet  we  have  men  here  who  are  able  to  design  a  great 
cathedral :  the  trouble  is,  that  it  is  the  others  who,  for  some 
reason  or  other,  obtain  the  opportunity. 

Such  "  cathedrals  "  as  we  now  possess,  with  the  single  ex- 

199 


CXIX.     GARDEN  CITY  CATHEDRAL. 


THE      CATHEDRAL 

ception  of  Albany,  need  hardly  be  referred  to ;  for,  if  we  leave 
out  Long  Island,  they  are  all  merely  parish  churches,  or  pro- 
cathedrals.  Garden  City  may  be  used  simply  as  an  example 
of  every  single  thing  in  design  and  construction  that  should  be 
piously  shunned.  It  is  a  cheap  and  frivolous  toy,  and  as  a  toy 
to  be  avoided.     (See  Figure  CXIX.) 

Recently  a  beginning  has  been  made  on  a  cathedral  in 
Cleveland  (Figure  CXX.).  Apart  from  the  almost  fatal  defect 
of  small  scale,  the  dimensions  being  those  of  a  parish  church, 
the  scheme  is  by  no  means  unworthy  of  the  cathedral  idea.  The 
architect,  Mr.  C.  F.  Schweinfurth,  has  succeeded  in  obtaining  a 
certain  dignity  and  cathedral  effect  in  spite  of  hampering  con- 
ditions. With  one  more  bay  added  to  the  length,  with  the  nave 
extended  to  the  street  line  over  the  narthex,  with  ten  feet  added 
to  the  interior  height  and  twenty  to  the  tower,  the  design,  ex- 
cept in  point  of  style,  perhaps,  would  be  admirable.  Still,  the 
fact  remains  that  we  have  not  as  yet  seized  upon  the  true 
cathedral  idea  in  this  country.  Where  one  like  the  bishop  of 
Albany,  and  he  the  first  in  America,  lays  hold  of  the  true  idea, 
he  is  able  only  to  a  limited  degree  to  convey  to  his  architect  the 
principle  he  himself  has  so  clearly  in  mind.  When  an  almost 
unrivalled  opportunity  offers,  as  in  New  York,  no  architect 
comes  forward  to  seize  upon  it  and  make  it  his  own.  When 
even  this  great  chance  is  excelled  by  another,  the  projected 
Washington  cathedral,  the  first  published  suggestions  are  con- 
fused and  made  of  no  account  by  fictitious  ideas  of  a  supposed 
necessity  for  a  certain  architectural  harmony  with  the  existing 
buildings  of  the  civil  government,  or  else  by  an  equally  fictitious 
theory  as  to  the  advisability  of  employing  the  most  highly  de- 
veloped form  of  the  Christian  style  without  regard  to  ecclesi- 
astical history  or  ethnic  development. 

When  a  vast  sum  becomes  available  by  bequest,  as  in  the 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

case  of  Garden  City,  careless  and  uncultured  executors  turn  a 
sacred  trust  into  a  commercial  operation,  and  carry  out  the 
terms  of  the  bequest  with  absolutely  no  regard  for  architectural 
or  ecclesiastical  principles. 

When,  as  in   Cleveland,  the  motive  is  just,  the  idea  noble, 
the    conception    absolutely  right,  the  whole  goes   for  naught 


C.  F.  Schweinfurth,  Architect. 


CXX.    CLEVELAND  CATHEDRAL. 


through  the  failure  to  recognize  one  of  the  most  essential  qual- 
ities of  a  cathedral, —  namely,  its  eternity ;  and,  therefore,  short- 
sighted schemes  of  temporary  economy  and  rapid  completion 
hamper  the  architect,  and  result  in  the  building  of  but  one 
more  pro-cathedral.  Yet,  through  all  our  failures,  we  can  see 
something  of  progress.  If  one  cathedral  can  be  begun  with  the 
right  ideals  of  Albany  and   New  York  as   the  foundation,  and 


202 


THE      CATHEDRAL 

with  the  addition  of  an  equally  right  architectural  style,  there 
will  be  little  chance  of  a  relapse  into  our  former  unenlightened 
state.  For  this  reason  the  projected  Washington  cathedral  is  a 
thing  of  unmatched  importance.  Albany  and  New  York  are 
fixed  in  style,  the  former  irrevocably,  the  latter  subject  to  modi- 
fication in  detail  that,  apparently,  is  taking  place  very  rapidly 
and  in  the  right  direction ;  but  Washington  is  still  an  open 
question.  Solved  rightly,  it  may  be  the  beginning  of  a  radical 
architectural  revolution,  the  results  of  which  are  incalculable. 
Solved  amiss, —  that  is,  as  a  problem  in  archaeological  erudition, 
Roman  or  French, —  it  will  mean  harm  immeasurable  and  the 
postponing  of  the  needed  architectural  reform  for  many  years. 

What  is  this  correct  solution  ?  What  relation  does  the 
modern  cathedral  bear  to  that  of  mediaevalism  ?  What  of  the 
ancient  qualities  persist,  what  have  ceased,  what  new  things 
have  been  added  ? 

First  of  all,  those  supreme  qualities  of  ultimate  grandeur 
and  sublimity  already  postulated  for  the  parish  church  by  reason 
of  its  nature  as  a  Tabernacle  of  the  Living  God,  those  qualities 
which  are  to  be  obtained  through  self-sacrifice  and  through  the 
giving  of  the  absolute  best  we  have  in  art  and  labor,  are  as 
persistent  now  as  in  the  past.  Then,  also,  we  must  build  in 
such  wise  as  to  crush  with  awe  all  those  who  enter  the  portals, 
and  raise  them  again  into  spiritual  exaltation.  We  must  build 
for  all  time  and  little  by  little,  making  what  is  to-day  but  one 
minor  cell,  perhaps,  in  the  final  vast  and  triumphant  organism. 
We  must  so  design  the  work  that  it  will  best  adapt  itself  to  the 
most  solemn  ritual,  the  most  imposing  services ;  and,  therefore, 
the  choir  and  sanctuary  must  be  vast  and  spacious,  the  aisles 
clear  for  processions,  the  sacristies  numerous  and  ample.  We 
are  building  not  for  a  parish,  but  for  a  whole  diocese.  Therefore, 
the  space  for  worshippers  must   be  very  great,  there  must  be 

203 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

many  small  chapels  and  oratories,  and  opportunity  for  endless 
tombs  and  tablets.     We  are  to  glorify  God  through  art.    There- 


CXXI.    VICTORIA  CATHEDRAL.     (Wilson.) 


fore,  the  best  that  can  be  found  in  all  the  world  is  none  too 
good.  I  shall  speak  of  architectural  style  in  the  concluding 
chapter,  passing  the  question  here,  only  saying  that  the  cathe- 
dral built  to-day,  like  those  built  centuries  ago,  must  grow  like 
any  of  God's  creatures ;  it  must  live :  every  stone  must  enter  per- 

204 


THE      CATHEDRAL 


fectly  into  the  being  of  what  is  almost  a  sentient  thing.  Every 
shaft  and  arch  and  vault,  every  buttress,  wall,  and  pinnacle, 
must  play  its  just  and  perfect  part:  there  must  be  no  waste  of 
force  and  no  weakness,  no  faulty  proportion,  no  ill-considered 
mass.  Rheims  and  Amiens  and  Durham  are  crystalline,  for 
you  cannot  add  to  them  nor  take  away,  they  are  rounded  into 
perfection  of  life ;  and,  as  they  are,  so  must  our  work  be  also. 

These  are  some  of  the  things  that  come  down  to  us  un- 
changed, and  that  must  be  demanded  of  architects.  Of  the 
qualities  that  are  no  longer  essential,  there  are  few;  and,  such  as 
they  are,  they  apply  chiefly  to  administration.  We  no  longer 
have  monastic  orders  intimately  connected  with  cathedral  foun- 
dations, and  there  are  usually  lacking  the  resident  canons  who 
make  possible  constant  daily  service  before  the  high  altar.  So 
the  presbytery  and  choir  need  not  be  quite  as  large  as  in  the  past, 
though,  as  the  result  of  this,  the  chapels  must  be  at  least  equally 
numerous. 

Of  the  new  requirements,  that  of  accommodating  the  largest 
number  of  people,  with  the  smallest  proportion  of  those  who 
cannot  see  either  the  altar  or  the  pulpit,  is  the  most  important. 
The  inexorable  law  here  is  that  this  shall  be  considered  up  to 
the  point  where  there  would  be  the  slightest  loss  architecturally, 
but  not  one  step  further.  The  chief  result  of  this  requirement 
is  the  throwing  open  of  all  the  central  part  of  the  church,  the 
abolition  of  the  solid,  monastic  choir  screen,  and  the  piercing  of 
vistas  diagonally  through  aisles  and  chapels, — really,  a  good  thing 
in  itself,  and  tending  to  a  bettering  of  the  architectural  effect. 

It  would  not  seem  from  this  that  the  problem  had  materially 
changed.  How  could  it?  The  Church  is  essentially  immu- 
table, and  essentially  her  architectural  expression  must  be  the 
same.  The  old  ideals  persist  and  control  us  in  our  labors.  Fol- 
lowing them,  we  can  hardly  go  wrong,  the  danger  lies  only  in 
breaking  recklessly  away. 

205 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

Latterly  in  England  a  tendency  has  manifested  itself  in  this 
direction :  the  impulse  toward  a  new  vitality  has  rather  out- 


CXXII.     EXAMPLE  OF   BAD   PLANNING. 


stripped  itself.  In  Figure  CXXI.  I  have  shown  an  example  of 
this  rather  exaggerated  effort.  I  shall  speak  of  this  again  in  the 
closing  chapter.  I  refer  to  it  now  simply  as  an  example  of  a 
danger  that  may  threaten    from  too  wide  a  divergence  from 


206 


THE      CATHEDRAL 

precedent.  Brilliant  as  it  is,  original,  living,  and  full  of  religious 
feeling,  it  yet  lacks  just  that  seriousness  of  purpose  and  that 
continuity  of  style  that  are  absolutely  imperative. 

For,  at  the  risk  of  what  may  seem  wearisome  reiteration,  I 
must  continue  to  insist  on  the  necessity  of  preserving  the  con- 
tinuity of  architectural  idea,  in  order  that  we  may  adequately 
show  forth  the  perfect  continuity  of  the  Church.  It  is  illogical 
and  unjustifiable  to  permit  ourselves  to  be  led  away  into  unfa- 
miliar paths  at  the  instigation  of  self-willed  ecclesiastics  or 
ambitious  architects.  With  the  classic  styles  we  have,  and  can 
have,  absolutely  nothing  whatever  to  do.  Sir  Christopher 
Wren  was  an  episode,  and  St.  Paul's  cathedral  is  an  episode 
also.  It  and  the  spirit  it  exemplifies  were  an  intrusion  into  the 
Church ;  and,  if  they  represent  anything,  they  represent  an 
occurrence  that  we  are  now  endeavoring  to  forget. 

I  have  referred  before  to  the  danger  that  once  threatened  of 
a  classical  cathedral  in  the  diocese  of  Washington.  This  danger 
has  probably  passed ;  but,  so  long  as  it  continued,  every  one  who 
was  interested  in  seeing  a  true  architectural  development  of  the 
Church  in  America  must  have  trembled  with  apprehension.  A 
cathedral  in  Washington,  built  in  what  I  am,  perhaps,  justified 
in  calling  the  "  Jesuit "  style  of  architecture,  could  only  have  set 
back  the  architectural  progress  of  the  Church  to  an  incalculable 
degree.  The  same  thing  is  true  of  the  now  discredited  Roman- 
esque, and  as  well  of  French  Gothic.  The  former  was,  as  I  have 
said,  a  local  and  evanescent  fashion :  the  latter,  while  no  criti- 
cisms can  be  brought  against  it  from  an  architectural  stand- 
point, is  nevertheless  forbidden  us  from  ethnic  and  historic 
reasons.  Our  succession  is  through  the  Scottish  and  Anglican 
Churches :  our  blood  is  that  of  Great  Britain.  In  every  possible 
way  we  are  tied  to  England  and  her  traditions,  and  whatever  we 
do  architecturally  in  the  service  of  the  Church  must  be  done  as 
a  development  and  continuation  of  her  history. 

207 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

I  have  spoken  frequently  of  the  importance  of  the  plan  as 
the  governing  principle  in  every  scheme.  It  was  always  held  as 
such  in  all  the  great  periods  of  the  past ;  and  the  measured  plan 
of  any  one  of  the  cathedrals  of  the  Middle  Ages  is  almost  as  in- 
teresting, almost  as  much  a  work  of  art,  as  the  exterior. 
Examine  the  old  plans  I  have  printed  in  this  chapter.  In  every 
case  they  are  masterpieces  of  composition,  of  the  spacing 
of  voids,  of  the  proportioning  of  solids,  and  of  the  tracing  of 
contours.  In  this  very  fact  lies,  I  think,  one  proof  of  the  es- 
sential greatness  of  the  mediaeval  builders.  Totally  without 
architectural  training,  they  nevertheless, felt  the  laws  of  archi- 
tecture so  keenly  that  they  were  driven  to  do  work  which  was 
in  itself  masterly. 

Compare  with  any  one  of  these  plans  that  which  I  have 
shown  in  Figure  CXXII.,  one  of  those  submitted  in  the  com- 
petition for  the  New  York  cathedral,  and  I  think  it  will  be  rec- 
ognized at  once  that  in  the  modern  example  is  a  total  lack  of 
proportion,  composition,  and  as  well  that  "  inevitable  "  quality 
that  marks  all  the  work  of  the  Middle  Ages.  There  is  no  cen- 
tral idea,  and  nothing  develops  from  anything  else.  The  pro- 
portions are  fatal,  the  arrangement  of  chapels  casual  and 
without  sufficient  excuse.  It  may  be  that  this  question  of  plan- 
ning is  essentially  one  that  appeals  to  an  architect  more  than  to 
a  layman,  but  it  is  fundamental. 

In  Figure  CXXII  I.  I  have  endeavored  to  show  a  scheme 
for  such  a  cathedral  as  is  usually  demanded  in  this  country.  As 
will  be  seen,  its  basis  is  the  typical  English  plan,  its  dominat- 
ing feature  is  the  great  central  tower,  the  point  which  differen- 
tiates the  English  from  the  French  idea ;  for  in  the  latter  case 
the  fa9ade  is  the  culminating  point.  I  cannot  but  feel  that  the 
English  type  is  far  more  architectural  and  possessed  of  greater 
possibilities  of  splendid  development  than  the  type  in  vogue 

208 


00    o 

g  ?? 

3-cg  .-= 
H  <"■'  J, 


•^l.^ 


H  H  ?' 

-  "s  ■ 

r   5"  "> 

o  I'  ^ 


O     rt     o 

>3   o   » 


5*0 


fe:o 


3-  =- 


THE      CATHEDRAL 

across  the  Channel.  Also  this  plan  provides  for  a  double  tran- 
sept ;  that  is,  for  a  secondary  transept  eastward  of  the  crossing. 
This  also  is  a  particularly  fine  development  of  English  com- 
position. In  deference  to  contemporary  prejudices,  the  nave 
is  made  very  wide,  in  order  that  all  the  seats  may  be  placed 


CXXIV.    VICTORIA  CATHEDRAL.    (Competitive  design.) 


within  the  arcades,  giving  a  clear  view  of  the  altar  from  nearly 
every  seat.  The  requisite  shadow  is  given  by  narrow  ambula- 
tories, which  are  built  out  into  small  chapels  or  niches  for 
monuments  between  the  buttresses. 

As  I  have  said  before,  the  great  weakness  of  the  English  plan 
lies  in  the  narrowing  of  the  church  at  the  central  point, —  that 
is,  the  crossing, —  the  only  attempt  at  obviating  this  —  namely, 
the  octagonal  lantern  of  Ely  —  having  been  really  a  failure.     I 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

have  endeavored  to  obviate  this  effect  by  reducing  the  size  of 
the  main  supports  and  adding  subsidiary  supports  at  the  angles, 
also  by  developing  these  same  angles  so  as  to  give  that  "  open- 
ing out"  effect  I  have  before  spoken  of  as  being  so  desirable. 
This  treatment  has  another  advantage,  in  that  it  gives  to  all 
the  seats  in  the  transepts  a  clear  view  of  the  altar.  Two 
secondary  altars  have  been  provided,  opening  directly  into  the 
transepts  and  so  arranged  that  a  large  number  of  seats  may  be 
used  when  services  are  held  at  these  altars.  This  is  most  desir- 
able, for  in  any  cathedral  there  will  of  course  be  many  services 
where  the  high  altar  would  scarcely  be  used.  The  English 
system  of  having  small  services  at  the  high  altar,  the  congrega- 
tion occupying  the  stalls,  cannot  be  condemned  too  vigorously ; 
and  it  is  a  corruption  against  which  we  must  carefully  guard 
here  in  America. 

The  choir  has  of  course  been  made  deep  and  spacious,  for 
this  is  absolutely  necessary  on  certain  occasions ;  and  the  cathe- 
dral must  be  conceived  with  regard  to  the  greatest  demands 
that  will  ever  be  made  upon  it.  The  east  transept  does  not 
project  in  its  full  height  to  the  lines  of  the  two  sacristies,  but 
would  probably  extend  only  one  narrow  bay,  just  covering  the 
choir  ambulatory.  In  these  transepts  above  the  ambulatory, 
galleries  could  be  provided  for  the  orchestra  and  auxiliary 
choir  of  women's  voices.  Another  great  advantage  of  this 
second  transept  is  that  it  makes  possible  great  windows, 
which  will  throw  desirable  light  directly  into  the  sanctuary. 

The  Lady  Chapel  is  given  its  traditional  position  to  the 
eastward  of  the  high  altar.  Above  the  reredos  would  be  a 
great  arched  opening  not  filled  with  glass,  but  giving  a  view 
through  to  the  end  of  the  Lady  Chapel.  Sacristies  for  the 
bishop,  dean,  clergy,  choir,  and  choirmaster,  as  well  as  the 
working   or   altar  sacristy,  have  been    arranged  with  due    re- 


THE      CATHEDRAL 

gard  to  convenience  of  administration.  To  the  north  a  cloister 
(incomplete  on  the  plan)  has  been  shown ;  and  in  this  cloister  is 
the  chapter  house,  which  has  direct  communication  also  with 
the  clergy  vestry,  and  the  bishop's  sacristy.  Beyond  would 
come  the  various  diocesan  buildings,  arranged  as  circumstances 
and  conditions  might  demand. 

Returning  to  the  main  front,  the  entrance  would  be  through 
three  deeply  recessed  porches  to  a  large  narthex,  which  on  the 
north  would  open  into  a  Calvary  chapel,  to  be  used  also  as  a 
mortuary  chapel,  with  a  vault  under.  In  a  corresponding 
position  on  the  south   is  the  baptistery. 

I  have  shown  no  exterior  view  of  this  scheme ;  but,  to  ex- 
press consistently  the  Church  in  all  her  history,  the  style  should 
be  that  to  which  I  have  constantly  referred  as  the  only  one  on 
which  we  have  an  unquestionable  claim, —  that  is,  the  last  per- 
pendicular of  the  fifteenth  century,  the  most  brilliant  example  of 
which  is  the  Chapel  of  Henry  VII.  at  Westminster.  The  whole 
mass  would  be  dominated  by  a  great  central  tower,  buttressed 
by  nave,  choir,  and  transepts.  To  the  west  the  two  subordinate 
towers  would  be  kept  low,  and  to  the  east  a  secondary  transept 
would  echo  the  support  given  the  central  tower  by  the  towers 
at  the  west.  The  aisles  would  be  practically  without  light,  the 
clerestory  filled  with  very  large  windows,  and  at  the  west  end 
over  the  narthex  and  between  the  two  towers  a  still  larger 
window  filling  the  entire  space. 

The  scheme  I  have  shown  is  arranged  for  masonry  vaulting; 
and  this  should  be  employed,  or  at  all  events  contemplated, 
in  every  case. 

It  is  deeply  to  be  desired  that  some  opportunity  may  offer 
for  the  building  of  a  great  and  typical  cathedral  in  this  country. 
If  one  could  be  constructed,  or  at  all  events  begun,  with  a  due 
regard  to  all  the  principles  which  should  underlie  true  church- 

213 


CXXV.    NEW  YORK  CATHEDRAL,  (ACCEPTED  DESIGN.) 


THE      CATHEDRAL 

building,  it  would  undoubtedly  result  in  fixing  for  a  century 
the  style  of  ecclesiastical  architecture  in  this  country ;  and,  once 
established  on  correct  lines,  we  should  soon  see  a  development 
of  ecclesiastical  architecture  which  might  easily  rank  with  the 
best  of  that  which  we  have  had  in  the  past. 

But,  if  this  is  to  occur,  there  must  be  no  more  trifling  with 
a  score  of  different  styles  and  ideas.  We  must  fix  on  a  logical 
and  consistent  system  of  procedure.  Indeed,  I  do  not  think 
that  I  am  saying  too  much  when  I  say  that  it  would  be  well 
worth  the  cost,  were  the  Church  in  America  to  have  some  con- 
vention or  conference  devoted  exclusively  to  this  most  impor- 
tant question  of  architectural  expression.  I  protest  that  it  is  a 
matter  of  profound  importance ;  and,  if  there  could  be  summoned 
to  some  such  conference  as  I  suggest  the  representative  eccle- 
siastical architects  of  the  country,  and  perhaps  several  from 
Great  Britain  as  well,  the  problem  could  easily  be  settled 
beyond  a  question  on  sane  and  satisfactory  lines. 


2'S 


CONCLUSION 


In  the  foregoing  chapters  I  have  endeavored  to  formulate 
the  idea  of  the  church  as  an  architectural  entity,  to  show  that 
church  building  is  not  simply  an  ordinary  proposition  in  .archi- 
tectural design,  but  rather  a  problem  governed  by  higher  prin- 
ciples and  more  enduring  laws  than  obtain  in  any  other  form  of 
the  great  art  of  building.  I  have  tried  to  indicate  the  difference 
between  the  modern  problems  of  civil  architecture  and  ecclesi- 
astical ;  to  show  that,  while  in  the  former  fashion,  individual 
taste  and  temporary  and  changing  conditions  may  justly  be  taken 
into  account,  in  the  latter  we  are  confronted  by  a  power  de- 
manding material  expression,  that  in  all  essential  things  is  un- 
changed and  unchangeable.  This  fact  has  been  forgotten  for 
several  centuries ;  and  the  result  has  been  not  only  chaotic  and 
misleading,  but  as  well  actually  detrimental  to  the  position  and 
influence  of  the  Church  herself.  For  we  cannot  look  on  archi- 
tecture, or  on  art  in  any  of  its  forms,  as  an  accidental  thing,  as 
a  matter  with  which  the  Church  has  little  concern.  We  must 
learn  the  lesson,  once  well  known,  but  long  forgotten,  that  art 
is  one  of  the  most  accurate  indices  of  civilization  known  to  his- 
tory, that  it  is  an  actual  and  vital  power  competent  to  do  God's 
work  through  His  Church  surely  and  lastingly,  and  that  indif- 
ference to  its  work  or  carelessness  means  actual  and  measurable 
loss. 

By  regarding  her  architectural  and  artistic  expression  as  a 
matter  of  indifference,  by  leaving  the  subject  in  the  hands  of 
incompetent  committees  and  untrained  and  unsympathetic 
architects,  by  following  after  the  evanescent  will-o'-the-wisps  of 
fantastic  fashion,  by  building,  in  a  word,  bad  churches  instead  of 
good  ones,  as  she  has  done  for  these  many  centuries,  the  Church 

217 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

has  not  only  cast  aside  a  great  teaching  agency,  she  has  as  well 
been  false  to  a  trust ;  for  she  has  always  been  the  inspiration  of 
art,  and  its  protector,  and,  when  civil  life  fell  to  a  level  where  it 
was  no  longer  able  to  incite  to  artistic  activity,  the  responsi- 
bility of  the  Church  was  doubled,  for  she  remained  then  the 
only  vital  power  that  could  insure  the  continuity  of  the  artistic 
life  of  men. 

It  is,  of  course,  worse  than  useless  to  mourn  over  what  is 
accomplished,  but  we  may  at  least  consider  it,  in  order  that  we 
may  see  clearly  how  we  are  to  try  for  better  things ;  and,  in  do- 
ing so,  we  must  first  realize  how  bad  has  been  the  work  of  the 
past  three  hundred  years.  Once  admit  this,  and  it  is  enough : 
we  can  then  pass  to  the  more  important  consideration  of  ways 
and  means  for  effecting  the  reform. 

The  trouble  has  been  that,  from  the  time  of  Henry  VIII., 
the  Church  has  allowed  the  civil  power  to  lead,  in  all  matters 
of  art,  at  least.  This  was  not  a  safe  leadership,  for  society  was 
not  of  a  nature  that  made  possible  artistic  development  in  the 
line  of  an  advance.  The  first  impulse  of  the  Italian  Renaissance 
was  thoroughly  assimilated  by  England,  and  the  Christian  style 
made  more  sensitive  and  beautiful  thereby,  as  may  be  seen  by  a 
reference  to  the  Chapel  of  Henry  VII.  at  Westminster;  but, 
though  for  the  moment  it  looked  as  though  English  Gothic 
was  about  to  develop  for  the  first  time  into  a  purely  national 
and  uniquely  beautiful  style,  the  hope  was  vain,  and  rushing 
political  events  brought  collapse  and  catastrophe.  The  evolu- 
tion of  the  great  national  style  was  cut  as  by  a  knife ;  and  Ger- 
man influence  under  Elizabeth,  debased  Italian  under  the  last 
of  the  Stuarts,  and  crude  Dutch  under  the  imported  Hanoveri- 
ans, were  only  stages  in  a  constantly  accelerating  fall.  At  the 
beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century  the  deplorable  progress 
was  stayed,  simply  because  there  was  no  pit  of  farther  fall. 

218 


CONCLUSION 


And  always  the  Church  had  taken  whatever  was  popular  in 
civil  life.  Of  course,  no  churches  were  built  under  Elizabeth; 
for  there  were  already  too  many,  and  they  could  be  given  away 
to  courtiers.  The  same  was  true  under  the  first  two  Stuarts, 
though  Charles  I.  did  indeed  do  his  best  to  stay  the  ignomini- 
ous progress  and  effect  a  reaction  in  favor  of  the  national  and 
Christian  Gothic.  Once  more  a  healthy  movement  was  crushed 
by  revolution,  and  with  the  Restoration  the  classical  Renaissance 
resumed  its  progress.  Wren,  Inigo  Jones,  Gibbs,  and  their  ilk 
were  technically  able  men,  but  they  were  hampered  by  an  ab- 
surd style ;  and  they  could  not  build  churches,  though  they  did. 
With  them  everything  stopped,  and  for  a  century  and  a  half 
religious  architecture  was  non-existent.  What  our  ancestors 
did  in  America  was  only  crude  imitation,  without  any  artistic 
value  whatever,  and  precious  only  from  an  historical  stand- 
point. The  French  Revolution  and  its  American  advocate, 
Thomas  Jefferson,  brought  in  a  further  modification  in  the  line 
of  still  greater  depravity  and  artificiality;  and  here  the  col- 
lapse might  almost  seem  to  have  stopped,  for  the  next  phase 
was  the  first  flush  of  the  great  Gothic  Restoration.  Unfortu- 
nately, however,  this  was  with  us  only  an  episode,  though  the 
work  done  by  its  great  advocates,  Upjohn  and  Renwick,  de- 
served better  things.  But  as  in  England,  so  here.  There  the 
Pugins,  with  their  sensitive  appreciation  of  architecture  as  a 
living  thing,  had  been  succeeded  by  the  masters  of  archaeology, 
Scott,  Street,  and  Pierson ;  and  the  Gothic  revival  went  back- 
ward. Here  Upjohn  gave  place  to  the  practitioners  of  "  Victo- 
rian Gothic,"  and  dryness  and  artificiality  were  the  result.  The 
Centennial  was  the  signal  for  the  complete  break-up  of  all  con- 
sistent building;  and  the  deplorable  chaos  that  followed  was 
lightened  only  by  the  fast  strengthening  influence  of  Richard- 
son, with   his   enormous   vitality,  his   splendid    sincerity   and 

219 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

honesty.  But  his  was  an  alien  style,  with  no  historic  or  ethnic 
propriety :  its  virtue  was  the  virtue  of  its  advocate  alone ;  and 
with  his  death  the  fatal  weakness  of  Romanesque  became  ap- 
parent. There  was  none  to  carry  on  the  master's  work.  It  de- 
generated into  the  most  shocking  barbarism,  and  passed  into 
history  as  an  episode.  Yet,  even  if  this  was  its  lamentable  fate, 
the  greater  quality  of  Richardson  persisted ;  and,  until  French 
Renaissance  came  as  the  latest  and  freshest  fad,  something  of 
honesty  and  directness  was  demanded  in  architecture. 

In  the  mean  time  the  steady  and  noble  work  of  Bodley  and 
Garner  and  Sedding  had  borne  fruit  in  England.  Victorian 
Gothic  was  suppressed,  and  continuity  was  restored  with  the 
original  movement  begun  by  Pugin.  A  score  of  brilliant  men 
took  up  the  task  of  the  restoration  and  established  it  firmly; 
while  Mr.  Henry  Vaughn  came  to  America  as  the  apostle  of 
the  new  dispensation,  and  a  few  men  have  seized  enthusiasti- 
cally upon  the  principles  he  so  modestly  showed  in  his  work. 

Since  then  there  has  been  a  new  development  in  England, 
and,  I  think,  hardly  a  healthy  one ;  that,  namely,  toward  an  ex- 
aggeration of  the  elements  of  originality  in  Sedding's  work  to 
the  exclusion  of  those  conservative  qualities  on  which  it  was 
based.  Yet  I  am  sure  that  this  is  only  a  temporary  phase  of 
development,  and  in  it  is  something  of  encouragement,  though 
for  the  time  it  is  exaggerated ;  for,  however  radical  and  revolu- 
tionary it  may  be,  it  is  vital  and  contemporary,  and  shows  how 
fully  the  younger  men  appreciate  the  necessity  of  making  ec- 
clesiastical architecture  living,  mobile,  and  spontaneous. 

Such,  briefly,  is  an  outline  of  the  vicissitudes  of  architect- 
ure since  the  time  of  Henry  VIII.,  when  its  natural  process  of 
development  was  stopped.  It  is  a  record  of  confusion,  of  arti- 
ficiality, of  a  complete  lack  of  consistency  and  of  governing 
motives.     That  it  represents  accurately  enough  the  progress  of 


CONCLUSION 


general  civilization  may  be  true,  as  I  have  said  in  the  Intro- 
duction ;  but  that  it  adequately  expresses  the  immutable  Church 
is  not  true,  even  if  we  admit,  as  we  may,  that  it  voices  her 
superficial,  and  for  these  hundred  years  her  apparent,  nature. 
We  can  no  longer  plead  ignorance,  lack  of  knowledge  of  the 
importance  of  art  in  the  service  of  the  Church,  want  of  guidance 
on  the  part  of  architects  toward  a  true  and  logical  architectural 
expression.  If  the  Church  continues  to  show  herself  through 
flippant  and  fantastic  styles,  if  she  still  prefers  confusion  and 
disorder  and  artistic  failure,  then  she  does  so  with  a  clear 
knowledge  of  what  she  is  doing. 

But  that  she  will  follow  this  false  and  unworthy  course  I  do 
not  believe ;  for  she  is  daily  growing  more  united,  more  clear- 
sighted, more  conscious  of  her  unity,  of  her  position  as  an  in- 
tegral portion  of  the  one  Catholic  Church,  and  this  very 
consciousness  must  of  necessity  explain  itself  in  a  correspond- 
ing consistency  of  outward  appearance. 

What,  then,  is  her  duty .?  what  is  the  attitude  that  she  must 
maintain  toward  art  and  her  own  architectural  expression  ? 

First  of  all,  she  must  realize  that  architecture  is  in  no  man- 
ner a  matter  of  fashion,  of  predilection,  of  personal  or  individual 
tastes ;  that  a  style  is  good  if  it  expresses  the  spiritual  idea  of 
the  power  that  employs  it,  the  genealogy  and  the  history,  the 
continuity  of  blood,  the  ethnic  affiliations,  and  the  temper  of  a 
people.  Then  she  must  understand  that  a  chaos  of  styles  is 
unendurable,  and  that  one,  and  one  only,  can  be  employed  at 
any  given  time.  As  she  is  one,  so  must  her  art  be,  also ;  though, 
once  established,  it  may  develop  and  expand  to  any  degree, 
until  it  has  progressed  far  beyond  the  original  point  of  depart- 
ure. Also,  she  must  know  this :  that  a  style  cannot  be  called 
out  of  nothingness  into  being,  but  that  it  must  be  a  continua- 
tion, a  development,  reaching  back  through  the  ages  to  the  very 
beginning  of  all. 

221 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

In  the  architecture  of  the  last  three  hundred  years  there  has 
been  neither  consistency  nor  continuity:  it  is  a  riot  of  epi- 
sodes,—  no  more.  The  French  Renaissance  of  the  boulevards, 
rampant  in  secular  affairs  just  now ;  Richardsonian  Romanesque, 
only  just  passed  into  history;  the  jabbering  argots  of  the  quarter 
of  a  century  following  the  Civil  War,  Victorian  Gothic,  pseudo- 
Gothic,  Jeffersonian,  Colonial,  Georgian,  Queen  Anne,  Jacob- 
ean, Elizabethan,  —  all  are  but  fantastic  episodes,  without  value 
except  as  a  stern  reminder  of  the  episodical  nature  of  the 
progress  of  post-reformation  civilization.  Step  by  step  we  go 
back  through  the  labyrinth  of  artificiality,  until  in  Jacobean  we 
find  a  certain  quality  of  spontaneity,  in  Elizabethan  a  little 
more,  and  then,  at  a  step,  we  pass  from  confusion  to  order,  from 
posing  to  healthy  activity,  from  self-consciousness  to  frank  sim- 
plicity, from  disorder  to  the  reign  of  law. 

For,  from  the  coming  of  William  the  Conqueror  to  the 
death  of  Cardinal  Wolsey,  the  development  of  Christian  archi- 
tecture in  England  had  been  slow,  sure,  and  logical, —  from  the 
Norman  of  Durham,  through  the  Early  English  of  Ely  and 
Wells,  the  Decorated  of  Canterbury  and  York,  down  to  the 
day  when  William  of  Wykeham,  bishop  of  Winchester,  by  what 
almost  seemed  divine  inspiration,  saw  before  him  the  next  and 
greatest  step,  took  it,  and  in  a  breath  turned  the  gropings  that 
had  been  hitherto  into  clear  seeing,  and  so  made  possible  the 
development  of  a  form  of  Gothic  that  was  at  once  worthy  to 
stand  with  that  of  France,  and,  as  well,  purely  and  consistently 
English.  It  is  at  this  point  that  at  last  we  are  able  to  take  up 
the  thread  of  development,  and  not  before ;  for,  as  I  have  said, 
all  since  was  but  a  babel  of  tongues.  Before  had  been  the  con- 
stant struggle  for  national  expression ;  but  it  was  through  means 
always  a  little  more  highly  perfected  across  the  Channel. 
English  Gothic  was  always  differentiated ;  but,  until  William  of 


CONCLUSION 


Wykeham,  it  had  fallen  a  little  short  of  the  wonderful  products 
of  the  Christian  style  in  France.  Winchester  cathedral,  as  it 
was  recast  by  the  great  bishop,  showed  that  this  reproach  need 
no  longer  be  endured. 

English  Gothic  had  attained  its  majority,  and  from  now 
could  only  be  triumphant  growth  and  advance.  And  such  was 
really  the  case.  The  perfected  style  came  into  universal  use, 
and  its  beauty  fell  like  a  garment  over  the  stern  old  Norman 
and  Early  English  cathedrals  and  abbeys.  Unfortunately,  none 
of  these  dates  wholly  from  this  time;  but  in  Winchester, 
Gloucester,  and  Sherborne,  in  the  Lady  chapels,  chantries, 
tombs,  and  reredoses  of  an  hundred  foundations,  in  the  colleges 
and  chapels  of  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  we  can  see  how  delicate, 
mobile,  and  withal,  national,  was  the  wonderful  thing  William 
of  Wykeham  had  brought  into  existence.  It  was  logical  in  con- 
struction, rational,  and  scientific ;  it  adapted  itself  to  conditions 
as  did  no  other  phase  of  Gothic ;  it  was,  and  is,  absolutely  mod- 
ern, yet  it  was  expressed  through  the  highest  forms  of  sensitive 
beauty;  and,  above  all,  it  was  national.  It  was  not  French, 
either  of  the  Norman  type  of  Durham  or  of  the  Geometric  of 
Westminster.  It  was  of  England,  English ;  and  it  voiced  the 
highest  qualities  of  the  loftiest  civilization, —  that  of  the  end  of 
the  fourteenth  and  the  beginning  of  the  fifteenth  centuries. 

There  seems  no  limit  to  the  possibilities  of  its  growth ;  and 
yet,  before  it  had  had  time  to  create  a  single  consistent  and 
complete  cathedral  or  abbey,  at  the  very  opening  of  its  career, 
it  was  crushed,  broken,  utterly  swept  away,  and  in  its  place 
came  the  crude  and  pagan  classic  of  Wren  and  Inigo  Jones. 

Here  is  our  starting-point.  We  may  pass  over  the  various 
fashionable  styles  with  hardly  a  word,  for  none  will  be  found 
bold  enough  to  advocate  classic  architecture  in  any  of  its  forms 
for  the  service  of  the  Church.     Romanesque  has  wrought  its 

223 


CHURCH      B  U  I  L  D  I  N  G 

own  downfall,  and  there  is  none  so  mean  as  to  do  it  reverence. 
To  Gothic  we  return  inevitably ;  but  the  process  of  exclusion 
does  not  cease  here.  Were  we  to  continue  as  now,  building  es- 
says in  archaeology,  to-day  in  French  Flamboyant,  to-morrow  in 
Early  English,  here  in  Decorated,  there  in  Fran9ois  premier, 
we  should  still  be  following  out  the  old  principle  of  artificiality. 
One  style,  and  one  only,  is  for  us;  and  that  is  the  English  Per- 
pendicular. 

Every  other  phase  of  Gothic  rose  in  response  to  a  demand, 
culminated,  and  passed.  Early  English  was  right  for  the  thir- 
teenth century  in  England  ;  Flamboyant,  for  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury in  France :  with  them  we  have  nothing  to  do.  If  we  play 
with  them,  we  are  making  experiments  in  archaeology,  not  serv- 
ing God  through  His  Church.  But,  when  we  turn  to  the  last 
great  Gothic  of  all,  the  Gothic  of  William  of  Wykeham,  we  turn 
to  the  work  of  our  own  race,  to  our  own  inalienable  heritage. 
Out  of  the  baitings  and  ventures  of  three  centuries  of  English- 
men, the  bishop  of  Winchester  gathered  the  good,  rejected  the 
bad.  A  great  architect  before  he  took  Holy  Orders,  he  saw,  by 
some  strange  illumination,  the  goal  toward  which  abbot  and 
monk  and  mason  had  been  striving.  All  before  had  been  ex- 
perimental essays  toward  national  expression,  crude  often,  and 
always  inadequate,  but  earnest,  honorable,  consistent.  He  as- 
similated it  all,  fused  it  in  the  crucible  of  his  masterly  and 
domineering  mind,  and  produced,  at  a  stroke,  that  for  which 
generations  had  patiently  labored,  —  the  free,  mobile,  all-com- 
prehending expression  of  a  religion  and  a  race. 

Yet  he  came  too  late  to  make  possible  the  full  development 
of  the  style  he  had  revealed.  Chaos  was  pending :  the  founda- 
tions of  the  great  civilization  of  the  Middle  Ages  were  being 
overturned.  The  Renaissance,  Reformation,  Rebellion,  and 
Revolution   followed,  one    after  the   other;  and  the  fabric  of 

224 


CONCLUSION 


mediaevalism  crumbled  to  dust.  From  the  day  when  Henry 
VIII.  began  the  suppression  of  the  minor  monasteries,  the  doom 
of  Christian  architecture  was  sealed.  In  a  day  the  work  of 
William  of  Wykeham  came  to  naught.  Thomas  Cromwell  was 
succeeded  by  another  of  that  ilk,  he  by  Wyatt,  he  by  Grim- 
thorpe ;  and  now  we  find  but  the  shattered  fragments  of  the 
greatest  architectural  manifestation  England  had  ever  given  to 
the  world. 

We  are  working  toward  a  restoration  of  much  that  was  cast 
down,  though,  as  we  find  now,  not  utterly  destroyed.  The 
spirit  that  is  returning  to  the  Church  demands  expression.  We 
are  restoring  a  theological,  doctrinal,  and  administrative  con- 
tinuity; and  we  must  fitly  express  this  in  structural  form.  This 
happened  in  England  when  the  Oxford  movement  found  the 
Pugins  ready  to  serve  the  Church  with  perfect  service.  The 
rehabilitation  of  the  churches  went  hand  in  hand  with  the  re- 
habitation  of  the  Church,  and  it  continues  unimpeded  to  this 
day.  The  Church  in  America  must  emulate  the  Church  in 
England ;  and  it  is  nothing  short  of  a  solemn  duty  that  urges 
her  to  take  such  action  as  will  result  in  ending  forever  the  pres- 
ent artistic  chaos,  substituting  in  place  thereof  consistency  and 
unity. 

And,  if  she  does  this,  if  she  realizes  the  power  of  art  in  her 
service  as  a  vast  agency  for  good  of  every  kind,  if  she  strives  to 
be  outwardly  what  she  has  been  in  the  past,  if  she  comes  to 
stand  before  the  world  united,  consistent,  dominating  in  her 
material  forms,  more  will  follow  than  merely  creditable  archi- 
tecture. At  present  we  flounder  in  a  morass  of  conflicting 
systems  of  art :  civil  society  cannot  aid  us,  for  it  is  equally  mired 
in  confusion ;  the  Roman  Church  is  helpless,  chained  hand  and 
foot  by  utter  artistic  depravity,  ignorance,  and  self-satisfaction. 
We  alone  cherish  the  flickering  fire  that  has  miraculously  been 

225 


CHURCH      BUILDING 

preserved  to  our  hands.  The  opportunity  is  era-making. 
Shall  we  let  it  pass  ? 

In  the  last  chapter  I  suggested  the  possibility  of  corporate 
action  on  the  part  of  the  Church  toward  the  determination  of  a 
single  course  of  procedure  for  the  immediate  future.  I  believe 
the  gain  quite  worth  the  trouble  and  the  cost.  If,  in  connection 
with  some  triennial  convention,  a  conference  could  be  held 
where  the  whole  question  of  art  in  its  relation  to  the  Church 
could  be  thoroughly  discussed  by  the  clerical  and  lay  members 
of  the  convention,  together  with  church  architects  from  America 
and  England,  I  believe  that  the  result  would  be  incalculable  in 
its  benefits. 

Art  and  religion  cannot  be  dissociated  without  mutual  loss, 
for  in  its  highest  estate  the  former  is  but  the  perfect  expression 
of  the  latter.  The  time  has  surely  come  for  the  restoration  of 
the  old  interdependence,  and  this  would  very  certainly  be 
effected  by  such  a  conference  as  I  have  suggested. 

Nor  should  this  possible  conference  confine  itself  to  a  con- 
sideration of  architecture  alone :  religious  painting,  decoration, 
church  music,  sculpture,  metal  work,  embroidery,  all  these  things 
might  well  be  considered ;  and  all  would  be  worthy,  for  all  are 
but  certain  of  the  means  whereby  we  try  to  glorify  God  and 
honor  the  Church  He  created. 

And  I  am  very  sure  that  in  point  of  architecture  one  decision 
would  be  reached  unanimously,  and  that  the  decision  to  take  up 
the  architectural  life  of  the  Church  where  it  was  severed  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  and  carry  to  its  logical  and  glorious  develop- 
ment the  work  begun  by  William  of  Wykeham,  bishop  of 
Winchester.  The  Church  would  easily  come  to  see  the  wrong 
and  the  harm  of  following  farther  our  present  chaotic  methods. 
Romanesque  and  Colonial,  Italian  and  French  Renaissance, 
the  early  Gothic  of   France  and  Germany,  Spain  and  England, 

226 


CONCLUSION 


would  be  abandoned ;  and  we  should  take  up  once  more  the 
great  and  unfinished  style  that  in  the  fifteenth  century  came  to 
express  with  matchless  delicacy  all  the  many  and  varied  quali- 
ties of  English  civilization.  On  this  strong  stock  would  be 
grafted  all  of  the  beauty  that  could  be  gathered  from  the  archi- 
tectural styles  of  the  world.  As  we  have  received  and  assimi- 
lated the  blood  of  many  nations,  making  ourselves  a  mighty 
and  dominant  people,  so  should  we  assimilate  the  qualities  of 
their  art,  grafting  on  the  vigorous  stem  offshoots  from  many 
lands;  but,  through  the  whole  marvellous  growth  that  would 
then  be  possible,  would  persist  in  enduring  strength  the  vigor- 
ous, vital  principle  of  Christian  and  English  civilization. 


227 


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